To the Halls of Mandos in a Backpack
by kingmaker
Summary: A Mary Sue parody. Rivendell is subjected to two lusters with very compatible interests.
1. Prologue: There's Something About Arwen

(A/N: Welcome to more random things falling from my head. This started because, in my shameless efforts to get more readers for Wings, I decided to write a Mary Sue parody. Everybody hates Mary Sues, and everybody loves watching Mary Sues get their just desserts, right? But how to write an original variant on that old theme? So I decided to introduce the male equivalent of a Mary Sue, a guy who inserts himself into canon in hope of pursuing an attractive female character, which I will call a Joseph Bill just for the hell of it.) 

Disclaimers: I don't own any real LotR locations or characters. Nor do I own Severus Snape.

To the Halls of Mandos in a Backpack

Prologue: There's Something About Arwen

            Crowbait returned to reality with a start. A painful start. It had happened again. And he had been so close this time. He had actually _touched her hand_! She had given the Evenstar _to him_! And then, he had leaned in for the kiss, what promised to be the first of many for Glorfinrod, son of the forbidden passion between Glorfindel and Idril Celebirndale, slayer of four Balrogs, hero of the battle of Dagolrad, possessor of Terrya, the Elven ring of earth, and destined by fate to reclaim the throne of Imladries. He would _finally_ succeed in kissing her. She was about to be his!

            At which point, things went to the Halls of Mandos in a backpack. Again. Aragorn took off one of his arms with the sword and set his shirt alight with a torch. Elrond removed his other arm with an elven sword/staff thing and, in the same smooth motion, grabbed the Evenstar and returned it to its original owner. No less than three arrows (one each from Legolas, Elladan, and Elrohir) hit him in the chest. And Arwen, as if awaking from a spell, drew that sexy sword of hers and plunged it into his groin. Glorfinrod staggered. Elrond kicked the two arms into the stream before withdrawing, giving Arwen the honor of shoving the mortally wounded fiend off the bridge. As Glorfinrod drifted away, fading into darkness, he heard the melodious voice of Enya flowing across the air. And then

            Crowbait was back at his desk in the dark corner of his apartment. The incomplete and unposted fanfic was gone from the computer screen and erased from the hard drive. Curses. Foiled. Again. Why couldn't the canon characters just let him have Arwen? After all, every single one of his manifestations was superior to them in every way. Glorfingon, Glorfinor, Glorfingolfin, Glorfinarfin, Glorfingol, and now Glorfinrod. All examples of the elvendom of the first age perfected in the third. And now nothing but memories, dead, neither seen nor heard of by any but himself. Why was he cursed so?

            From across the hall he heard a scream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Theodosia King screamed. All her anger and frustrations rushed forth violently from her mouth. Had she been less distraught, she might have commended herself for doing an excellent Ringwraith impression, but in her current state she could think nothing but raw, painful emotion. "Why me? Why am I cursed so?"

            Theodosia was among the most prolific reviewers of fanfiction on the site. She knew Tolkien canon like the contours of Viggo Mortensen's face, but that didn't mean that she objected to original characters. On the contrary, she reveled in them. She was the perfect beta for Mary Sue writers; she corrected typos and caught specks of uncanon dust in the tapestry of their prose while turning a blind eye to the log in said tapestry that was the original character. Countless writers of fanfic had eagerly asked when they would see some of her own writing on the site, and she could not respond. She had written more than a dozen stories, all featuring her (or a more perfect version of herself) in Middle-earth. There was _Theodosia in the Shire_, _Theodosia at the Prancing Pony, __Theodosia and the Ranger, __Theodosia to the Rescue, __Theodosia vs. the Ringwraiths, _Theodosia the Healer_, __Theodosia's Advice to the Council, __The Fellowship of Theodosia, __Theodosia in Lorien, _Theodosia Rides Again_, __Theodosia Saves Aragorn from the River, __Theodosia and the Art of Kicking Ass, __Theodosia and the King, __Queen Theodosia of Gondor, and _Theodosia Saves Estel from the Twins' Evil Prank_. All had disappeared from her computer as though they had never existed the moment she uploaded them, only to appear on the pages of other writers a few days later, only with her name changed to that of another writer. She had complained the first couple times this had happened, but she had no files to back up her claim, and since the other writers __could produce the originals from their computers, she had no choice but to concede. She had first imagined there was some software glitch that was screwing her, but then she had begun to hear elven laughter issuing from her computer. Today, as __Theodosia Finds Athelas and Gets a Reward from Aragorn had vanished into the cyber wormhole, Theodosia swore she could see the face of Arwen laughing at her from the computer screen. _

            And speaking of swearing, Theodosia's scream had by this point degenerated into a stream of expletives so profuse that her cat had covered his ears with his paws and was meowing pitifully, almost like a human moaning in pain. Before the pain could continue, however, there was a knock on the door. With one last "shit," she stood up and opened it. She was greeted by her neighbor from across the hall, a dirty young man who had all of the lack of hygiene and none of the evil charm of Severus Snape. Ordinarily, she would have slammed the door in his face or, failing that, staged a curt conversation at the threshold of her sanctuary and _then slammed the door in his face, but in her emotional state she was unable to do either and in short order they had exchanged their tales of fanfiction woe._

            Finally being able to tell another person of her curse lifted a huge weight off her chest (and not just the added padding she used to attract Aragorn in her stories) and set her cunning mind in motion. "You want Arwen. I want Aragorn. Neither of us can get them. What if we write a story together? If Arwen falls for you, she won't give me any trouble over Aragorn. And vice versa. What do you say?"

            "I'm game," Crowbait responded. "Your computer or mine?"

            "Better do mine. At least on my computer it doesn't disappear until I try to upload. Pull up a chair. We have a lot of work ahead of us."

            And so it begins.

            Crowbait and Theodosia King are writing together.

            Mary Sue has met Joseph Bill.

            Look out, Canon.


	2. Ch I: Unintended Uses for Elven Wine

To the Halls of Mandos in a Backpack

Chapter I: Unintended Uses for Elven Wine

AKA

Love is in the Air, Chapter 1- Red Sky Over Rivendell

(Pretentious Author's Notes: Haha! The curse has been lifted. I am finally successful in posting. You have, of course, already read many of my fanfics, though you probably had no idea that they were mine, ripped from my computer to that of some other putrid writer who has gotten the credit for all _my hard work. Not that I'm bitter or anything._

Anyway, this is what really happened at Rivendell during those great days of Autumn 3018, Third Age, when the most gorgeous elf in all elvendom took Imladris by storm. I hope you all enjoy _Love is in the Air and GIVE ME A GOOD REVIEW OR YOU WILL SUFFER. DON'T MAKE ME FLAME YOU!_

Best Wishes,

Theodosia King :-)

(Obnoxious Author's Notes: Guess what? My computer didn't delete this fic. Cha-ching! Arwen is gonna make sweet hot love to the elf whose hotness leaves Leggy in the dust and You Can't Stop Me! Brouahahahahahahahaha! –Crowbait)

            Dusk was settling over Rivendell as the riders approached. It had been a long ride, but it would be worth it. Their father had guaranteed that, albeit in somewhat cryptic terms. Ralas Firnquareion was a great and wise elf, the King of the fair realm of Nantaurea, possessed of the gift of foresight. He foresaw great events occurring in Rivendell, a gathering of the greatest and wisest of all the free folk, and such a council simply _could not be held without his children. Vienasar Duryaveion was a glorious example of a male elf- tall, thin, green eyes shining like emeralds, long, sleek blonde hair that females could hardly resist stroking, a finely crafted body that was the personification of perfection, and a face that even the Valar would be jealous of. His twin sister, Huchelda Lossengollien, was very similar in appearance, except for the presence of finely rounded breasts and the absence of something else. Both had devoured most of the books in Nantaurea's library and were learned in all the elven arts, including that which humans called magic. Both were expert marksmen, dangerous swordspersons, skilled with knives, and worthy of their names at wrestling. _

It was on account of these talents that Ralas allowed them to travel on their own, rather than sending them with a large and bothersome retinue. They had spent the long journey enjoying the wonders of nature, getting to know each other better (PA/N: There is NO sexual connotation in the previous statement.), and putting a substantial dent in their supplies of hair care and other beauty products. Oh, and evil-minion slaying. Before Huchelda stopped counting, they had mercilessly eliminated eleven thousand, six hundred eighty seven orcs, two hundred thirteen trolls of assorted varieties, one hundred eighteen evil men, fifty nine giant spiders, fourteen Nazgul, six Balrogs, and two Istari. Wearing blue robes. They nearly dispatched one of the Valar, but it turned out that he only wanted directions to Nantaurea, so they let him go. With a warning.

            Their sojourn in the wilderness was at a close, however, as they observed the last vestiges of sunlight turning the clouds in the sky many gorgeous shades of red and purple. "What a lovely sky," Huchelda breathed, her silky voice sounding like music on the gentle breeze that sent her pretty hair cascading down her shoulders.

            "A fitting conclusion to our travels, my sister. Now the *real* work is about to begin." Ralas had either not known or not told his children the nature of Elrond's council, but the siblings assumed that it was another nasty quarrel among the other royal elves- they were such petty boors- perhaps Galadriel had shacked up with Hladir again and driven Celevorn away, or maybe Thranduil and those idiot dwarves were at each others' throats, or maybe Elrnod had challenged his mother-in-law to a magical duel. Again. Either way, it would fall to these twins to use their bottomless wit and smooth diplomatic skills to bring the conflict to a peaceable end. No one else would be able to do so. No one else was *this* perfect. Vienasar shifted his weight (OA/N: Cue female readers swooning.), and tried to imagine how pleased Elrond would be when he saw them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Elrond was pleased. Vienasar and Huchelda were almost here, and then his troubles would be at an end. He often wondered how he survived without those two. Sure, Glorfindel wasn't a _bad_ advisor, but he paled in comparison to the wisdom that exuded from the very pores of Ralas' children along with good looks and…

            **"What the Hall! Elrond? What in Eru's name are you thinking? Hello?"**

Huchelda. He had wanted her from the first time he laid eyes on her, but he couldn't have her. She had been too young then, and, besides, Celberian was still alive then. But now… Now she would be within his grasp and at his mercy to…

            **"I'll say again: What the Hall! Okay Elrond, don't say I didn't warn you," and Erestor poured his glass of wine over Elrond's head. He came to his senses with a start.**

**            Elrond, Glorfindel, and Erestor had been enjoying a bottle of wine when something had happened. Glorfindel's face had just gone completely blank and Elrond's eyes had glazed over, his face assuming a lustful look that Erestor had not seen since that night when everyone had gotten drunk on Mirkwood vintage and Celebrian had made a naughty suggestion to her husband. Erestor, unaffected by whatever was going on and quite disturbed by what it was doing to his friends, thus decided to take drastic measures.**

**            "What the… Erestor? What the Hall just happened? Who… Huchelda? Who the Hall is Huchelda?"**

**            Glorfindel remained blank, but Erestor was doubled up in laughter. "Huchelda!" he shrieked. Elrond paused, about to yell at his advisor for making light of such a situation, and then he realized what he had just said and he, too, laughed.**

            Arwen, awakened by the commotion, came down, having not even bothered to knot the tie on her robe. "Did someone call?"

            The three elves got a good view of way more than they had bargained for though, in fairness, the horny old elves _had asked for it._

            **Erestor**** and Elrond averted their eyes, but Glorfindel just kept staring into space. Unfortunately for her, Arwen was standing directly between Glorfindel and his space. Elrond was even more flustered.**

            **"What the Hall? I've been saying that way too much tonight. Something is afoot. Arwen… just go upstairs and back to bed. And don't come down in that state again."**

**            Arwen's face shifted into an expression of surprise as she discovered the state of her robe, and she turned around with a "whoop" of embarrassment and fled back to the bed from whence she came.**

**            Erestor paused. "Wait a minute… I thought she left to find the hobbits several days ago. How could she have just come down?"**

**            "What is going on?"**

**            Arwen's bizarre appearance seemed to have awakened Glorfindel from his seemingly comatose state. His previously blank face now held a thin smile that might be considered leering, but his voice remained flat. "Memo for you, sir" he said, handing Elrond a paper before falling backward across the balcony.**

**            Elrond was having strange thoughts about unknown elf women. Erestor was using good elven wine for unintended purposes. Arwen was running around Imladris dressed such that Estel would be jealous he'd missed it… except that she ought to be out in the wilderness, having found him and the hobbits by now. And Glorfindel had affected a brilliant impression of Celeborn before losing his balance in a decidedly unelven way. What was going on? Maybe this sheet Glorfindel had given him held some answers.**

_MEMO_

_To: Elrond, Lord of Rivendell_

_From: Ralas Firnquareion, King of Nantaurea_

_Subject: Your Council_

_As per your effort to gather the greatest and wisest of the free folk for your Council, I have, as might be expected, sent my children, whose beauty, intelligence, magic arts, and combat talents will make your assembly complete. Vienasar Duryaveion and Huchelda Lossengollien you are of course very familiar with, having known them from a young age. Both are still available should you wish to betroth them to your daughter and adopted son, thereby saving them much trouble. Otherwise, I fully expect you to comply with their wishes, lest your stubbornness compel me to appear myself to enforce their desires._

_Best wishes,_

_King Ralas of the fair realm of Nantaurea_

_END MEMO_

**            So. Here was the answer to all the riddles. An elven king of an unknown land. Seemingly perfect (and eligible) elves coming to Rivendell. Mysterious happenings affecting the denizens of Imladris. It all added up to one thing: something was happening the Valar did not intend. And this self-styled 'King of Nantaurea,' wherever that was, had thrown down a gauntlet to enforce these unanticipated events.**

**            Not that there was any question in Elrond's mind. He knew, somehow, that he could not directly harm these strange elves who even now were approaching his abode, but he could subvert them, misdirect them, try to distract them until he figured out how to get rid of them. He would make them regret that they had ever messed with the elves. And as for this 'King,' well, he could be dealt with if he ever came to Rivendell. In the meantime… "Elladan? Elrohir?" he called his sons to him. "We have work to do."**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            It was dark when the twins finally reached Rivendell. They were greeted by a lovely elf that turned out to be Elladan, who apologized that his father was unable to greet them. Elrond had turned in early after he had drunk a cup of Vandal Root tea Elrohir had given him and needed to sleep off the effects. Elladan showed them to their rooms and had baths drawn for them. He offered to have food brought up, but the twins had already eaten, so he took their leave of them. Upon emerging from their baths, they found he had left them a bottle of wine, which they consumed before retiring for the night.

            "Well, dear brother, we're here. Aragorn and Arwen aren't back yet, but I intended to arrive before they did. This should give you a chance to become good friends with the other twins, whose help we may need in keeping Arwen and Aragorn apart."

            "And you?"

            "I'll be making sure that Elrond can't interfere with our plans. I'll make him try to act on his fantasies. After all, blackmail can be a wonderful weapon."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            **Before he retired for the night, Elladan reported to his father's chambers, where Elrond and Elrohir were holding, for lack of a better word, a council of war. Erestor and would have been with them, but he was still tending to Glorfindel, who was only beginning to come back to his senses, and Arwen had disappeared again, presumably resuming her interrupted rescue mission.**

**            "Well?" asked Elrond.**

**            "I wish I'd had more notice, but I did the best I could under the circumstances. It isn't very original, but I broke Vienasar's sword while he was bathing. Let's see how amazing he is with a blade when he has only shards."**

**            "And the wine?"**

**            "Oh, that's not much. Let's just say I don't envy the elf who gets to change their sheets in the morning."**

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(A/N: Yes, it's silly. Yes, it's random. Guess what? So are all Mary Sue stories, but you don't see them admitting it, do you? All the canonical characters on this page are out of character, but to different degrees- the _Love is in the Air _characters are what I call 'Agent Smiths' (resembling the canon only in physical appearance) while the Halls characters are 'Agent Elronds,' sort of in character but not really- they cannot be totally free of the out-of-character taint while the uncanon characters remain in the world. The elvish names are deliberately bad and I made no effort to make them correct, since I don't think Crowbait and TK would make that effort either. Vienasar means 'red manhood,' Huchelda means 'naked womanhood,' Ralas means 'marble lion,' and Nantaurea means 'forested valley.' Those names come from Alex Grigny de Castro's Lambe Eldaiva. The 'surnames' are from the Barrowdowns' All-in-One Name Generator. The image of Red Sky over Rivendell comes from a matte painting for Two Towers at dusso. com which is my desktop of choice when the Nazgul get too depressing.)

Disclaimers: LotR and all the characters therein are not mine. If they were, do you think I'd be writing this? Vandal Root tea belongs to TreeHugger. Crowbait, Theodosia King, Vienasar, and Huchelda are not taken from or modeled after any specific individual; they are merely generic parodies of no one in particular. Neither is this fic intended to insult collaborative fanfic efforts- the only collaborative efforts I've read on this site are very good. 

And reviews are always appreciated. As are plot bunnies.

As today (11-1) is All Saint's Day, I will respond to that special class of Saint commonly called Reviewers:

The predominant threads among reviewers were that the prologue was funny and they thought this story had potential. I apologize somewhat for this chapter, because this is just setting the stage and getting the intruders to Rivendell. If subsequent events are as funny on paper as they are in my head, things will get better, though, if you have any ideas, I'd be more than happy to hear them.

Since a couple of you asked, the names for the authors are both drawn from my aliases. Crowbait comes from Stormcrow (see the poem of that name on fictionpress) and I just thought it was a funny name for a fanfic writer. I just like the way the name Theodosia sounds, and King of course suggests kingmaker. Neither name was used on ff.net as of 10-11-03, and I'm not attempting to mock or parody any specific individuals by using these names.

Also, all misspellings of canon names are intentional- I imagine that both Crowbait and TK would have given birth to many a mini-Balrog (c. Miss Cam) had their stuff actually gotten posted.

**kimmaree****, Feana Puddlefoot, Eirtae, and Werecat99- I only hope I can live up to your expectations. This is the first time I've attempted a lengthy humor piece, so I only hope I can sustain the laughs. I appreciate all of your kind words (even if they do set the bar higher :-)**

**Eirtae**- Either I was brain-dead when I read your first review or you saw something in there I didn't. I thought both your reviews were very positive and only mean that I have high expectations to live up to.

**TreeHugger**- Take it from a guy, there IS something about Arwen, quite similar to whatever it is about Legolas and females. ROCL? I like that- does it mean rolling on the chair or rolling off the chair? I'm glad you liked Crowbait's elf names- I said, why should I go through all the trouble to think up original elf names when there's all this easy recombination I could do. 

**Dragon-of-the-north**- Sorry I made you cry :-) In the prologue, Crowbait and TK raise an age old question- is it worse to ignorantly butcher canon or subtly toy with it? You obviously think the latter (I'm not sure which is worse), and you also found the subtle paradox I inserted into the prologue- TK knows canon but ignorantly butchers it in her fiction, while Crowbait is no canon expert but nonetheless attempts to slip into canon as unobtrusively as possible.


	3. Ch II: Things Better Left Unseen

(Author's warnings: Those easily offended, run away now! I resort to some quite sophomoric humor to establish what jerks the uncanon twins are. It isn't all my fault- my roommate decided we should have an Austin Powers marathon the weekend before last. There is also a scene stolen from a Seinfeld episode- fans of that show will recognize it immediately, and people who know me will realize that there's no way I would think up that scene -which, even having written it, I still find highly disturbing- on my own. 

Based on some problems with the last chapter, parents are warned not to read this when sleeping children are in earshot.

This chapter also contains some in-jokes stemming from "The Architect of Caras Galadhon," so if you have not done so already, you may want to read that story before proceeding with this one.

And now, if everyone will join me in a rousing chorus of -to the tune of the Ringwraith theme from FotR- "I DO.. NOT OWN IT!" I have taken a line directly from the film and one from the book, but both remain the intellectual property of the owners of their original contexts.

As always, reviews and plot bunnies are much appreciated.)

Thank you much to my few, but very kind, reviewers:

**Dragon-of-the-north**: Aagh! You're reading my mind! (Actually, I hadn't thought about the broken sword, but you're right. Two points for giving me my first external plot bunny). I hope that my answer to the riddle of the Blue Wizards doesn't deter you from writing your version of their task. I'm glad you like my clichés- they will get worse.

**Zyrorai**: Hopelessly silly Crowbait and TK are, but they're also desperate. Not a good combination. It's fun to write when I'm feeling inspired. Otherwise, it's tough, as I'm sure you know, being a writer yourself. Some of the inspiration for this chapter was forced, for which I apologize. The Istari were something of a last minute addition to that list, but people really seem to enjoy them being there. I'm a huge fan of both the LotR and HP books- I've actually reread the latter more times than the former. The two reasons I don't have any HP fics are I didn't like those movies anywhere near as much as I did the LotR movies and I have yet to be struck by an HP plot bunny. That will probably change in the future.

**TreeHugger**: Aagh! You're on to my secret (I don't think I've ever read a Mary Sue that wasn't intended as a Mary Sue parody, but, eh, what's the difference?). Dragon's already commented on the Istari- I just hope I haven't deterred her from continuing 'Silver Bow.' Fourteen Nazgul means that either the numbers were generated randomly and Crowbait and TK weren't paying attention or several of the Nazgul came back for more after being beaten once. Yay for minis- how would 'respectable' (I use that term lightly after having written this chapter) fanfic writers like me survive without their help? Perfection? Me? Profuse thanks. Awrin sends greetings to Hildair and I send my apologies to your child for interrupting their sleep. Also, I send my condolences to your back and lungs- all that ROCL can't be good for them :-) And, having borrowed your tea for two tales, I will now return it to you.

**Kimmaree**: I'm not having a good run- first I keep TreeHugger's kid from sleeping, then I wake your baby. This chapter comes with a warning not to read when sleeping children are in earshot. I'm thrilled you're enjoying it this much.

To the Halls of Mandos in a Backpack

Chapter II: Things Better Left Unseen

AKA

Love is in the Air, Chapter 2- The Art of Seduction

(Pretentious Author's Notes: Thank you to the lovely reviewers of chapter 1. I love you all! I didn't have to flame any of you! And now, as per your requests, you will see Huchelda's skills as a seductress in action- you will see much more of them, the computer willing, in time. And we're only one chapter away from the incomparable Aragorn making his appearance in Rivendell (sigh).

With affection,

Theodosia King :-)

(Obnoxious Author's Notes: Vienasar doesn't get to do much in this chapter, so the adoring legion of female readers may just wish to wait for the next one. Nothing to read here, folks -Crowbait) 

            Huchelda awoke drenched in sweat. She had never imagined Rivendell in October being quite this hot. It had been a miserable night; she felt like she had tossed and turned all night, but couldn't remember ever being conscious. As she sat up, though, she became aware that there was more that sweat staining her sheets. "Oh, shit," she muttered. Among other things.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Elrond, his sons, Erestor, and Glorfindel had had a sleepless night, but, being real elves, they did not really need the rest the way the strange twins did. Elrond had convened a conference call to get his mother-in-law's advice while the others had formulated a battle plan. He thought he could probably deal with this little invasion himself, but it wouldn't hurt to seek her advice and, more importantly, he hoped she might send reinforcements. Between the manifold beings converging on Imladris for the council and the evils that would surely be wrought by these unexpected visitors, the elves of Rivendell would more than have their hands full.**

**            So it was that, around ****midnight****, while the visiting twins were deep in their uncomfortable sleep, Elrond proceeded to the alcove with Vilya and attempted to initiate contact with the bearer of Nenya. **

**            "Galadriel?"**

**            "I amar prestar aen, han mathon ne nen, han mathon ne chae a han noston ned gwilith. You have reached the Ring-mail of Galadriel. I am not available right now, as I am engaged in other nocturnal activities. If this is Mithrandir, leave a message with your problem and I'll get back to you in the morning. If this is Elrond, your council will go fine and I'll be in touch with you shortly after they leave. If this is Sauron, no, for the last time, still the door is closed. If this is one of the Ulairi, I don't know why your boss gave you this number, but you, like him, have absolutely no chance of getting Nenya. Or me. If this is Manwe, will you please tell me whether I'm banned or stay only because I want to? If this is…"**

**            Elrond was getting quite bored waiting for the beeps to signify that it was time for him to leave his message when he heard a click in his mind.**

**            "Hello?" Galadriel asked. "Sorry about making you wait, Elrond. Celeborn was quite reluctant to let me get out of bed."**

**            Elrond winced. There were things about your in-laws that you just didn't want to know.**

**            "I know why it is you called, for it is also in my mind. There is a great disturbance in Middle-earth, and it has now attached itself to your house. What is the nature of this disturbance?"**

**            "A twin pair of elves, Huchelda and Vienasar."**

**            Elrond paused while Galadriel nearly brought up a lung laughing. "Wait till I tell Celeborn," he discerned her thinking.**

**            After several minutes, when her breathing finally resumed normality, Elrond continued. "They hail from the ****land**** of ****Nantaurea****, which does not exist insofar as I know. From what I have gathered thus far, the male intends to take Arwen and the female will wed Aragorn unless we can stop them. They seem capable of controlling our minds, at least to some degree. They made me think naughty thoughts about the female, made Glorfindel violate Celeborn's patent on the 'Non-Entity Mode,' and somehow transported Arwen from the wild to Rivendell so she could appear to us in a less than decent state before transporting her back. Is there anything we can do to defend against this power of theirs while we try to get rid of them?"**

**            "As you've already guessed, you can't harm them directly. I know what can kill them, but it will take time to gather the components. I will send Rumil and Orophin to gather what we need and they will see that it gets up to you as soon as it can. In the meantime, the best advice I can give you is to avoid coming into the presence of one or the other alone; there is strength in numbers. Turning my grandsons' creative talents against these other twins may be a clever way to avoid trouble during the council, but they will not be deterred by such minor inconveniences. Once all the attendees are present, I might suggest using some of those to distract the female, which would free up Aragorn to help Arwen. But the best advice I can give you is just to cling on to your sanity until the weapon Rumil and Orophin are gathering arrives. Hope remains, while your household is true, but the council stands on the edge of a knife. If too many should fall under their spell, it will fail, to the ruin of all."**

**            "I was hoping you and Celeborn might be able to come up and help me," Elrond thought tentatively.**

**            "Don't be silly! Even if we could make our way north safely, we would not arrive there until long after the council was over."**

**            "Why not? These twins approached from the east and had no difficulties, and Nataurea must be quite distant, yet they took little enough time to get here. I think the ripples of disturbance they sent through our world have shortened transit times, which would allow you to come north in short order."**

**            "Hmmm… I suppose it's possible. Celeborn and I can get started in the morning… with Haldir and a few others. Yes. Anything else?"**

**            "Is there a chance you could bring more celebrated females to help distract the male twin?"**

**            "What if I send a dream to Eowyn for her to come to your council as representative of Rohan?"**

**            "She would work. Thank you. I'll see you soon then."**

**            "I will not let you stand alone."**

**            Before Elrond could break off the mental conference, he heard Galadriel say "No, Celeborn… heeheehee… don't do that yet… teehee…I have to use Nenya to send Eowyn a dream summoning her to the council… haha… stop that!"**

**            As the twins were waking up, Elrond was still struggling to purge those images from his brain. Despite his inability to help, however, the others had formulated a plan for the day. Elladan would pretend to be romantically interested in Huchelda and invite her for a walk in the woods. Elrohir would trail them and take what opportunities for mischief were presented. Glorfindel would invite Vienasar to join him in martial training. Hopefully Vienasar, upon discovering the state of his sword, would want it reforged, which would allow them to imbue it with a wider range of malignant spells. Erestor would take advantage of the absence of both visiting twins to prepare assorted tricks within the Last Homely House. And Elrond would proceed to his bedroom and try to sleep off the painful visions he had been subjected to during the night.**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            After thoroughly scrubbing herself in the bath, Huchelda emerged with the intent of grabbing some breakfast before trying to locate Elrond. Her plans quickly changed, however, as she saw him moving toward his bedroom, looking highly distracted. She decided to follow at a discreet distance, as this was probably the opportunity she had been looking for.

            She waited a minute after he entered his chamber before going in without announcing herself. For her purposes, her timing could not have been better. Elrond was mostly undressed. He turned and stared at her and, just as she would have expected, hardened. 

            Elrond's teeth were clenched and his hands were drawn to his groin. "Must… not… succumb. Must… resist." The thoughts of his in-laws doing things were now completely gone, replaced by completely unbidden thoughts of himself and Huchelda doing things. Huchelda… she was so beautiful… and he was close to a state of exposure, and he could bring her to a similar state relatively easily.

            He took two steps forward before he was aware that he had done so. "Must… not… do… this." Huchelda was so gorgeous. Her breasts were soft and full, and her hips looked soft and inviting. "No…" He was so eager to take her… no… "ERESTOR!"

            Erestor heard Elrond calling from his bedroom, and something in the tone told him what was afoot. When he got up there, Elrond was on floor, one hand clawing the air, the other clawing at his crotch as though fighting with it. Huchelda was standing in front of him, both taking pleasure in the power she had over him and showing confusion over his limited ability to fight her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            **There were times it was useful to be a mighty elf lord, and this was one of them. The woman was showing no signs of leaving her host's bedroom despite the fact that her host obviously was suffering some sort of seizure and was in an indecent state. Erestor attracted her attention with a fake cough and, without a word, fixed her with the patented 'Elf Lord Death Stare,' with which an elf lord could compel any subordinate to do his/her will without speaking a word. (It is believed that Galadriel holds this patent and that there is a cause/effect relationship between her 'Elf Lord Death Stare' and Celeborn's 'Non-Entity Mode.') Huchelda left the room without another word and proceeded down to breakfast, where Elladan was waiting for her.**

**            Once the fiend had left, Elrond's breathing became normal again and he relaxed. Erestor helped him onto the bed and made sure to lock the door on the way out.**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Breakfast was rather uneventful. To no one's surprise, Ellidan spent the entire meal shamelessly flirting with Huchelda. (How could he be expected to resist her lovely charms? She was, after all, such a beautiful example of elven hotness, so beautiful that she had even sent warm blood flowing through Elrond's cool body.) He even offered to give her a personal walking tour of the natural beauty of Rivendell, but she refused it. Though she in no way relished the idea of sleeping with Elrond, her failure to make him do so raised serious questions about her ability to compel the other elves to do her will and meant that she was no longer holding an important card in her effort to get Aragorn. Thus she elected to retire to her room and contemplate her next move.

            Meanwhile, Vienasar, having finished his own breakfast, retired to the study. He wanted to read up on the history of the family so he could better bond with the other twins.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            **Shortly after eating, Glorfindel went in search of Vienasar to invite him to partake in swordplay. He expected that the strange elf would be in the study next to his room, where Elrond kept his family records. Elrohir had seen to it that a copy of the Lay of Leithian, the song of Beren and Luthien, was displayed prominently, in hopes that the twin would read it and realize why Arwen and Aragorn were destined for each other.**

**            When Glorfindel entered the study, though, Vienasar was not just reading. He was doing something highly… unnatural. Glorfindel fell against the wall in shock. Vienasar got up to help, but decided he had to attend to another matter first, so Glorfindel collapsed to the floor and hit his head hard.**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Later that afternoon, the twins were discussing the failures of the day. Huchelda was still struggling to comprehend what her brother had done. 

            "I keep telling you, I went in the study to read up on Elrond's twins and I saw this book and I started flipping through it, and got excited and… well, you know…"

            "What was in the book?"

            "Erm… Arwen's baby pictures."

            "Baby pictures? You did… _that_… over baby pictures? That's just sick."

            "It… it wasn't just baby pictures. It was… well… blackmail pictures. You know, the kind every parent has of their kids: in the bath, making unexpected appearances in her birthday suit, things like that. Stuff the parent keeps around to show boyfriends and such, to embarrass."

            "But how could you do such a thing over such innocent pictures. It's just a little girl."

            "Yeah, but Arwen naked is Arwen naked…"

            "So you were doing… _that… and Glorfindel walked in?"_

            "Yeah, and he saw me and fell against the wall, and I wasn't sure whether to help him or zip up. So I zipped up, and he fell down and hit his head hard."

            "They had to wake up Elrond to heal him."

            "Well, I've learned one thing from this: I will never do _that_ again."

            "Riiiight."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            **Elrond fumed all day. He had just fallen asleep when Erestor woke him up. Glorfindel had been found unconscious on the floor of the study and apparently needed tending. He would spend most of the day expending tremendous amounts of energy to heal Glorfindel. He should have been able to deal with it in a half hour or so, but he was so distracted by the events of the previous morning that it had taken him six hours to deal with a simple concussion, and he was completely drained. As if the injury to Glorfindel weren't bad enough, none of their plans could come to fruition thanks to Glorfindel's injury and Huchelda's decision to retreat into her room for the day. Fortunately, those plans would still be there tomorrow.**

**            But unfortunately for Elrond, Mithrandir would arrive that evening, not only keeping Elrond from his much needed sleep but reminding him that there were more important issues going on in the world than the invasion of Rivendell by strange and foreign twins. And Mithrandir needed to talk to Elrond urgently about what had happened to him since the last time they met and discuss plans for the council. So Elrond would have to endure another night of practically no sleep.**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            It was decided, after the fiascos of the day, that the twins should just lay low until Aragorn, Arwen, and the hobbits arrived. They had just completely alienated Elrond's most trusted (albeit imperfect in comparison to themselves) advisors, and Elrond, assuming that he could remember something of his internal struggle, was not likely to be thrilled with them either. So compliance was the order of the day, and they only hoped no ill would come of it.


	4. Ch III: Whine, Wine, and Other Things De...

To the Halls of Mandos in a Backpack

Chapter III: Whine, Wine, and Other Things Detrimental to Lord Elrond's Health

AKA

Love is in the Air, Chapter 3- 'Mounting' Tension

(Pretentious Author's Notes: Before reading this chapter, I would recommend you read _Beer and Girl Talk, reputedly the work of Princess Oiralimpe and a piece of such high quality that I *might* have written it myself._

Have fun,

Theodosia King :-)

(Obnoxious Author's Notes: Many apologies for taking so long to update. We've had everything going on, from overload at work and abnormally stressful holidays to lingering illnesses and other plot bunnies nibbling. Don't even get me started on how hard this chapter was to get started. Nevertheless, I think it is far superior to the previous one, especially for the admirers of Vienasar who, by the way, has not done _that_ anytime recently, thank you very much -Crowbait)

The twins had promised themselves that they would comply with whatever was asked of them this day and, if they were just ignored, they would merely lay low and wait for Arwen, Aragorn, and those unimportant short guys to arrive. Vienasar had proposed that Huchelda's failure to successfully seduce Elrond may have been because, in her heart, she really did not relish the idea of, as he put it, "fucking the ugly, horny, stupid, possibly incestuous, and generally unpleasant bastard." She had laughed, told him that she couldn't agree more, and then reminded him that he probably ought not to say such things aloud.

            Vienasar had grumbled about that, since she had said very similar things with neither shame nor fear, but he held his tongue. In truth, the twins did not get along very well. She had a serious superiority complex, believing that, in the hierarchy of the world, she was on top, Aragorn was beneath her, every other female was below that, and all the lowly males, including himself, sat on the bottom. She gave orders to him like she was his mother even though he seemed to recall that he was the first to leave her womb. She was haughty, overbearing, and dismissive of anyone's ideas but her own.

            The only reason Aragorn would be willing to put up with her for more than five minutes was her looks; she was drop-dead gorgeous and, he assumed based on her figure and behavior, exceedingly shagalicious. Though not nearly as much as Arwen. But close. Very close. Dangerously close… He shook his head, trying to determine why he was thinking such thoughts about his sister and returned his attention to his eggs and bacon.

            He snorted as he chewed with his mouth open. Huchelda just shook her head. She wasn't sure if he was always such a pig or just trying to cram two weeks' worth of disgusting eating habits into one meal. Either way… She had to keep reminding herself that she only needed to put up with him until she was safely wed to Aragorn, at which point she would go south with him, dropping off the hibbits, who were good for nothing but comic relief anyway, before getting to Minus Tirth (the city formerly known as Minus Amor) and reclaiming the throne from the psychotic and possibly sodomizing Stewart.

            Her brother's grunt interrupted her planning. There would be time enough for that later, she supposed. And then it registered- someone was missing who ought to have been here. Glorfindel was probably still sleeping off his concussion- she still could not believe what that idiot brother of hers had done yesterday- and it made sense that King Elrond would try to avoid her, fearing that he might succumb to temptation if he saw her again, but there was someone else…

            She turned to Elladan, who was being markedly less flirtatious this morning. She was unquestionably insulted, but had concluded that it was probably best not to say anything. "Where is Gandalf? I thought I heard him come in last night."

            He didn't turn to look at her, instead addressing his plate: "He's closeted with my father. They're discussing plans for the council."

            Vienasar looked up. His sister looked like she was about to chastise Elladan for not answering to her face, but then she got this wicked grin, and he groaned. He knew that grin. It was the face she got when she was contemplating something unpleasantly erotic, usually of a homosexual nature. He would never understand why some women were so obsessed with the idea of two men getting it on; he didn't have similar thoughts about women, and was thoroughly disgusted whenever he thought of Arwen kissing anyone besides himself. 

Huchelda stood up and headed toward the door, her last biscuit forgotten in its puddle of gravy. He moved to intercept her.

            "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked, trying to keep his voice low enough that it couldn't be overheard. "What happened to compliance? You're just going to get us in deeper."

            She was looking at him funny. It was the same way he imagined Arwen would look at him during the night. He shuddered at the thought that she was thinking now like he had been thinking earlier. This was not good.

            She shuddered herself and, in a typically haughty tone, told him off. "Quit your whining. You always whine too much. It'll be fine; I'm just going to have a bit of fun. It isn't as though I'm pulling this out of thin air: everyone knows that Gandalf is gay, and Elladan said they were 'closeted' together. I'll just give them a… push in the right direction." She laughed evilly and, as she walked away, it took all his willpower to focus on Arwen and remind himself that he could not kill his sister… yet. But Gandalf and Elrond… He shook his head. She was one sick bitch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            **"So we've lost Curunir. That won't make things any easier. I had been hoping he might prove of some use to us in dealing with the twins."**

**            "There's nothing he could do that I can't. I've already planted the seeds for something that should neutralize the foul creatures and make Galadriel's weapon unnecessary."**

**            "I wonder how long it will take her to get here…"**

**            They had been discussing the council and the twins all through the night. Mithrandir was pacing near the door, trying to stay conscious, while Elrond was studying the map. Just looking at it gave him a headache, but he needed to figure out whether he should delay commencing the council until her arrival or not. More than once, he had considered teleconferring with her, but the thought of catching her and Celeborn at a bad time again held him back. He imagined that he would be having nightmares about that as soon as he got the opportunity to sleep again. If he couldn't come to a decision about the council before the hobbits came, though, he would ask Mithrandir to talk to her.**

**            A sudden wind passing through the chamber blew the map to the floor. "Wonderful," Elrond muttered as he leaned over to pick it up… and stopped as he felt Mithrandir tightly embracing him in what was decidedly not a brotherly hug. "Oh, Valar," he muttered with both anger and fear, but it shortly became a sigh. "Oh, Valar…" He had forgotten what it was like to be held in Mithrandir's strong, if slightly aged, arms. It had been so long, and he had been so worried when Mithrandir had not returned from Isengard. He could not bear the thought of living alone while Mithrandir joined with Curunir. He sighed again as he settled into the embrace, but it quickly became a moan as Mithrandir clubbed him over the head with his staff.**

**            Gandalf had been shocked when he was flung across the room toward Elrond with magic similar to that which Saruman had used to beat him up, and even more shocked when unbidden thoughts about the elf lord sprang into his head. What was going on? Long years in Middle-earth had made him forget much, but he very clearly remembered the contract Olorin had signed before sailing east, and he had certainly not forgotten the clause stipulating that the Istari should engage in no sexual activity at all. Though he did wonder if his colleagues had been ignoring that…**

**            Elrond was not helping, so Gandalf disengaged from the inappropriate hug and tried to knock some sense into him. As the elf staggered, shaking his head, Gandalf whirled and, with his power, opened the door, drew Huchelda in, and slammed her against the wall with as much force as he could muster. She did not crumple to the floor, but instead stood up, no remorse or pain evident on her face. He had forgotten that there was only one way to cause pain to these creatures, and it was not yet assembled.**

**            She tried to throw another spell at him, but he blocked it and pinned her to the wall. "Never… mess… with a Maia," he said quietly, but in a tone that brooked no argument. "None of us are gay here."**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            "Oh really?" As if he could intimidate her into forgetting what she knew to be the truth. Old white guys who were (or ought to be) dead were all the same: they hated women with a passion, particularly those who tried to force them to face less than pleasant realities.

            "Yes, really. We're no more gay than Arwen."

            Huchelda opened her mouth to speak and then closed it. He was obviously forgetting about the time that Aragorn and Faramir had gone out for a beer and Arwen had decided she wanted to engage in more than just girl talk with Eowyn. How could he not remember that incident? _Everyone_ had heard about it. On the other hand, mentioning it would just infuriate her brother, perhaps enough to make him back out on their deal. So she stayed silent, nodded, and turned on all the charm she could muster. There was nothing for Gandalf to do but remove the spell and let her go. Which he did, still glaring at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            **Elrond watched her go, unsure what he was watching. That (he spat an expletive so foul that Mithrandir flinched) was either Sauron, having figured out how to assume fair guise once more, or something else channeling the spirit of Morgoth. A whole bottle of elvish mouthwash would be unable to cleanse the foul taste that lingered in his mouth, and an unopened cask of elvish wine could not purge the evil that lingered in his mind. Not that he wasn't planning to try.**

**            Mithrandir must have been reading his mind, because he made the door close before Elrond could leave. "Not so fast. You can get yourself drunk later, but right now there are a couple more things we need to do for the council and we can imbue an amulet to make you more resistant to her efforts at mind control."**

**            Elrond sighed. The Istari was right, of course. So Elrond proceeded to spend the rest of the morning draining his power and the whole afternoon immersing his brain cells in the blissful oblivion of strong beverages.**

**            Elrond was returned to consciousness by a hand shaking his shoulder. It was Erestor. He looked concerned, but Elrond could tell that it wasn't his condition that bothered him. Erestor appraised him of the situation. "My lord, your daughter just brought Estel and the hobbits back and, well, the Ulairi attacked them back at Amon Sul, giving the ringbearer a particularly worrisome wound, which they really… need you to look at."**

**            "Damn. How long have I been out?"**

**            "Only a couple of hours, I'm afraid."**

**            "Ugh. It feels like less. And I thought my head couldn't hurt any worse. Why did they have to come tonight? It's hard enough to heal when you're drained, nevermind the fact that I drank enough to give an oliphaunt hiccoughs."**

**            As if in answer to Elrond's question, Glorfindel came in. "How did they get here so soon? The note they sent with the owl said they shouldn't be here until tomorrow night."**

**            "The what?"**

**            As if in answer to Elrond's question, the lovely white owl settled on Glorfindel's shoulder.**

**            "Oi Valar," Elrond sighed. This was going to be a very, very long night. Again.******

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Disclaimers: The two original characters and the three nonexistent authors are mine (loath though I am to admit that my brain generated them), but everything else is the intellectual property of the Tolkien Estate. Hedwig is the property of J. K. Rowling, though how the twins got her out of the Harry Potter universe and convinced her to carry messages for Frodo is anyone's guess. I'm not sure if Austin Powers ever used the word 'shagalicious,' but it is inspired by those movies anyhow.

Review Responses: 

**Kimmaree- Uh oh. First I wake the kids, then I subject them to second-hand laughter. I can't win :-) As you've no doubt guessed, writing silly stuff about Galadriel just comes naturally to me.**

**TreeHugger**- Similar to humor about Galadriel, being mean to Elrond just comes naturally ("It was the risk we all took when we let PJ pad our parts").  Awrin sends Hildair an invite to the barbecue she will hold when the tale is finished. Once again I apologize for the last chapter and hope that this is higher quality stuff (though the real quality, of course, is in _Wings_).

**Dragon-of-the-north**- Celeborn demonstrates here why the non-entity mode is decidedly an on-and-off behavior. Yes, the uncanon plague is spreading. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

**Greetings from Mordor**- Glad you like it. Here is more, as per your request.

Author's Notes: First, a big thank you goes to **makoto-47 for suggesting the Gandalf/Elrond pairing in her review. That turned out to be just the thing I needed to break the writer's block on this story. Which leads me to the real apology for taking so long with this chapter. After _Wings and __Dueling Club decided to demand all my attention for awhile, I finally figured out how to use makoto's suggestion and this chapter is entirely the product of the past 36 hours. I had been hoping to give you all something longer, and deliver it in a more timely manner than I did, and I apologize for both._**

In other news, the characters definitely took this in a different direction than I anticipated, changing their own personalities a bit, but continuity need not be a huge priority for this story, so whatever. The timeline and the Rivendell breakfast are both corruptions by Crowbait and TK- neither are true to canon. Oiralimpe means 'eternal wine' in Quenya (once again courtesy of Alex Grigny de Castro's Lambe Eldaiva). And, one more time for the record, I absolutely HATE slash.

And, as usual, plot bunnies and reviews are appreciated. Cheers.


	5. Ch IV: Expletives Deleted and Swordplay ...

(A/N: First, I do not own any of the canonical species, characters, or locations. Second, I apologize for taking so long to update. This was my top fanfic priority after finishing _Last of My Heart_, but unfortunately the unpleasant realities of assigned reading and midterms reared their ugly heads and, for me, schoolwork always takes precedence over fanfic. This chapter is substantially longer than last, but I think that to some degree I've sacrificed quality for quantity, as the humorous bits are fewer in number and farther spread in this chapter. To attempt to remedy that, I elected to give Crowbait and TK the reviews and let them respond thereto, so if any are offended by what they say I apologize. And, as usual, I love reviews and plot bunny suggestions.)

To the Halls of Mandos in a Backpack

Chapter IV: (Expletives Deleted) and Swordplay of the Socially-Acceptable Kind

            "Well, this seems to be going fairly well," Crowbait intoned.

            "Going fairly well?!? Are you (frickin') crazy?" At the sound of the cursing, Theodosia King's cat ran back under the sofa. "Arwen and (sigh) Aragorn have arrived in Rivendell and we singularly failed in everything we wanted to do before they arrived."

            "Well, that's true, but think about it. We have actually succeeded in posting something, and that's fairly impressive considering our combined track record."

            "Yes, but our success is marred by the fact that what is posted bears little resemblance to what we wrote. Something is becoming very clear to me: people are disgruntled. The canon is fighting back."

            "Eh, let it. They've said themselves that they can't kill us, and, as long as we remain alive, it's only a matter of time before we get the passionate, steamy-hot sex that we crave."

            Theodosia rolled her eyes. Crowbait was so obsessed with having sex with Arwen that he was totally neglecting the more important element of love. Theodosia fantasized about talking with Aragorn, smiling at Aragorn, holding hands with Aragorn, snuggling with Aragorn. Though, in fairness, if she got only one thing out of this adventure, it would be having sex with Aragorn. Definitely.

            Crowbait winced. Theodosia was getting that look on her face she always got when she paused to daydream about Aragorn. It was time to change the subject. "Anyway, we should get on with the review responses. We had seven reviews for this movement of our fanfiction symphony- a personal best! First, **LOTRlover**, I'm very glad that we made your day and I hope that we can continue to do so."

            "Yes, and just for the record, I myself simply loved _Anticipation_ and hope the kingmaker's comments about it neither offended nor discouraged you," Theodosia added. "**Kimmaree**, I'm glad that my dabbling in slash was appreciated. I usually do not write such things, but there are some whose sexuality simply cannot be denied. I seriously doubt my co-author's ability to get Arwen to switch teams."

            Crowbait glared at her. "Doubt all you want, we'll see who has the last laugh. After all, I certainly know that Vienasar has far more success in this chapter than his sister. And check this out: **Greetings from Mordor** says that we are both entertaining and literate, the latter almost certainly being a result of my contributions. And what about **makoto-47**, who reminds us that it was not you who first conceived of the hideous Gandalf/Elrond pairing."

            "Of course, she also says that this her favorite of our stories, which is odd considering that this is our only story, and thus leads me to question the veracity of other remarks by said reviewer. Oh, and **Lady LeBeau**, this is not intended as humor, subtle or otherwise, and I am most disturbed by the way you treat perfectly legitimate original characters in _Here They Come_. That is cruel and unusual."

            "Not as unusual as you might think, Theodosia. And I, like the kingmaker, find that tale quite amusing. By the way, Miss LeBeau, if Krystal should become available I would be more than happy to take her out to dinner."

            "Ah! Stop being unprofessional. You are not supposed to use the story to enhance your otherwise non-existent love life. **Dragon-of-the-north**, I do wish you wouldn't call our valiant heroes such derogatory nicknames. And, despite what oddities may be introduced by the Canonical Resistance Movement (CRM), neither of said heroes are in any way flawed (though Vienasar's eating habits do seem a bit tasteless)."

            "Of course, so are your slash attempts, so you aren't in much of a position to be talking. And since the characters of her excellent _Alagaith__ Chronicles_ are generally referred to by their nicknames and her and Tree's current great work, _The Silver Peacock and the Skulking Cutpurse_ contains two derogatory nicknames, I would forgive her. Assuming these notes get posted, Dragon, you will see more of the story behind the story. Yes, there is some exchange of insults between us, but it is all in good fun. I, for one, wholeheartedly concur with your interpretation of the arguments of a slasher. And 'poor Elrond' is decidedly appropriate."

            "Yes, especially when one considers that he will be your father-in-law fairly soon." Vienasar glared at her. "I can't speak to the mysterious contract of the Istari, but there were rumors at this time that Radagast's affinity for animals went beyond mere scientific curiosity and that Saruman was visiting Lurtz far more times than necessary, and it seems likely that Gandalf had perhaps heard these rumors."

            Crowbait cringed. Theodosia had thought about these things far too much. "Moving on, I would just add that Dragon's assessment of slasher defense mechanisms is very accurate and sadly true, that I have no idea where the owl came from either (though it could be through the manipulations of a certain experimental fanwriter), and that Elrond is almost certainly worthy of any Middle-earth cussing contest. Lastly, **TreeHugger**, I'm glad to hear that I'm not the only writer delayed by such real life inconveniences. And, despite the bitchy predictions of Huchelda, Vienasar has indeed learned his lesson regarding _that_."

            "Yeah right. As for women, Tree, we're only more catty when stupid men don't let everything go our way. I have no idea why Vienasar was thinking about Huchelda that way and can only assume that it must be part of the CRM. Though I must agree with you that Vienasar/Elladan would be far more pleasant than Vienasar/Arwen."

            Crowbait shuddered and exerted all his will power not to slap her. "Your conceptions of what is pleasant unquestionably need a lot of work. As Tree puts it, 'Evil Female Spells' are indeed the root of all the vileness known as slash." He paused and flipped through the printed stack of reviews. "I think that about covers it. Much more of interest for the Vienasar fangirls in this chapter than in previous installments. He does, however, make reference to his own backstory, as told in such tales as _One Good Elf and a Very Bad Man_, _Kill Orc, Volumes I-VIII_, and _Balrogs__ have Feelings Too!_, which will hopefully be posted soon. Other than that, I believe that both of us hope that you enjoy the chapter."

Love is in the Air, Chapter 4- Practice Makes It Possible

            Considering that both twins were superior healers, they probably should have been helping poor Frodo, but both were otherwise occupied. Vienasar, against his sister's advice, had sampled the cakes Gandalf had sent up after dinner, and was now passed out on the bed. He would have looked rather cute but for the contorted expression on his face and the moans issuing from his slightly open mouth.

            Huchelda, on the other hand, could not stay and watch him, as she had something else to do. Aragorn was around somewhere... and now that Elrond and Gundelf were off seeing to Frodi, she had her best opportunity to track him down and... introduce herself.

            He was making his way to his bedroom when she spotted him. Incidentally, it was the same bedroom in which he had slept as an orphan being raised in Rivendell. It was the same bed where he had cried himself to sleep, unwilling to let others see his tears for his dead mother. It was in that bed that he had had his first pubescent dream about a woman. In that bed he had spent countless nights pining for her, the black-haired elf woman destined to be his queen. As he opened the door, little did he know that she was standing down the hall from him. Her stomach gave a very pleasant and sensual flutter as she contemplated fulfilling those fantasies in the same place where he first experienced them.

            Before Aragorn entered the room, he turned, noticing her for the first time. His face was weary and haggard; it had been a long time since he had slept comfortably. Huchelda moaned. It pained her to see her beloved aching so. It took all her willpower not to just run up to him, take him in her arms, and hold him tight until all the pain was gone.

            But if she had learned one thing in the past two days, it was that she had to tread carefully. She could not rely solely on her magic and flawless good looks to get her way. She would have to attract him with her delightful personality. Not that it would be too difficult.

            Aragorn was staring at her, though whether in puzzlement or attraction she could not tell. "Who are you, and what are you doing in Rivendell? No, nevermind, you're obviously here for the council. If you would forgive me, milady, but can whatever you want wait until morning? In addition to desperately needing sleep, my thinking has also become dangerously incoherent and I worry what I might forget if you told me why you were here now."

            "I'm Huchelda of Nantaurea, and I just need to talk to you."

            Upon hearing her name, Aragorn raised his eyebrows and cocked his head at her and then shrugged, yawned, and, with a muttered "In the morning," stepped into the room. The door slammed behind him just as she reached it.

            Huchelda tried to open it, but it was locked and would not open to her magic. Cursing in disappointment and pain at the thought of being under the same roof as her love but not the same sheets, she made what was probably her wisest decision to this point: she admitted defeat and returned toward her room. Before she got there, however, she passed Arwen going to her own room. Huchelda was very tempted to say something mean or otherwise suggestive about her relationship with Aragorn, but something held her back. If she did that now, it might make her brother's life that much more difficult when he tried to seduce Arwen. And it was also hard to be rude to someone who looked as exhausted as Arwen. She was walking with an odd gait, obviously the result of riding on horseback for several days, and the scar on her face demonstrated how much effort she had spent trying to save Frodo. Much as Huchelda despised the elf princess, they were both dedicated to keeping the Dark Lord from reclaiming his ring, and so Huchelda restrained her cruel tongue in deference to their common cause.

            Instead, each elf lady nodded at the other as she passed. As they did so, Huchelda noticed the white jewel hanging from Arwen's neck, and an idea began forming in her brain. She abruptly turned around and headed toward Rivendell's smithy. Surely no one else would be using it tonight…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            **Elladan, who had been assigned to keep the twins out of Frodo's room at all costs, spent most of the evening wishing that he could be a fly on the wall with writing utensils. Every five minutes, on average, his father would let fly an expletive at such volume that it could be heard through the thick door, typically an expletive of a most foul nature that Elladan had never before heard uttered. He imagined that, were he in the room, he could probably fill a book with unusual curses, and he knew that such a tome would already have a fairly substantial built-in audience (starting with, but certainly not limited to, his brother, Legolas, and every other male elf who had yet to outgrow his tendency toward mischief). "Lord Elrond and the Art of Cursing, compiled by Elladan" had a nice ring to it. And, if the hobbit had indeed brought with him the Ruling Ring, then every good being in the world would probably want a copy before all this was over.**

**            Despite that, though, he still didn't understand why it was so urgent for his father to commence the healing tonight. Even if, as was whispered, Frodo had encountered one of the Ulairi (Elladan shuddered at the thought that they were again abroad), Elrond would probably do more harm than good trying to heal tonight. An unspeakably vile witch had been in his head, he had seen his in-laws doing things that you never wanted to see your parents doing, he probably had a concussion from Mithrandir's staff, he was sleep deprived to the extreme, and he had more alcohol in his system than it would take to put five average elves under the table. He should have just told someone else to keep Frodo alive for twenty four hours or so and taken that time to recover his strength, but his father was as likely to admit defeat as a hobbit was to admit that he was full. In other words, the chances that Elrond would be getting any real sleep in the next few days were slim to none, and slim was waving to him from the deck of a ship leaving Harlindon. They would be lucky if the hobbit made it out of this alive…**

**            Elrohir shifted stealthily through the shadows. His task, which he had been given no choice about accepting, was to make sure the twins could not seduce Arwen or Estel while they were vulnerable on account of fatigue. Of course, he would have failed just as the evening began had Aragorn not remembered the advice Elrohir had given him. "After you've eaten, proceed directly to your room and seal all the locks on the door. If any strangers attempt to waylay you, plead overtiredness and brush them off as politely as possible. Do not let them touch you." Aragorn had successfully followed this suggestion when approached by the female twin while Elrohir was guarding his sister, unaware that Mithrandir had already put the male twin out of commission of the night. Elrohir had also been unable to prevent Huchelda and Arwen from passing each other in the hall, though thankfully no incident had ensued. Just as they were upon each other, the evil one had suddenly turned and scurried off in the opposite direction, as though some new diabolical plan had just occurred to her. He had really wanted to follow her and find out what she was doing, but he was afraid of what the consequences would be if he left the bedroom hallway again, especially because his task had also included the charge of insuring that his sister and Estel spent the night in separate rooms. Elrond was still uncomfortable with the thought of his daughter giving up her virginity and immortality, if she hadn't done so already, to a human. Elrohir shook his head. Even though they didn't usually see eye to eye, he understood his sister well enough to know that she and Estel were totally smitten and that their father's resistance would only strengthen her resolve. Assuming the visitors didn't interfere. Elrohir had never been exactly thrilled with the idea of his adopted little brother marrying sooner than he did, but he would happily serve as best man if it would get rid of these strange twins, which he strongly doubted were even part of this world.**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Having broken his fast, Vienasar came to the conclusion that the best way to enjoy this lovely autumnal day was to go outside and practice with his sword. The one hanging from his belt, that is. Since the unfortunate and unspeakable incident two days past, he had given up practicing with his other sword (OA/N: I _told_ you he would never do _that_ again, bitch!), though, if all went according to plan, his other sword would be going to battle in a night or two. So, in the meantime, it wouldn't hurt to hone his weapons skills with the talented elves of Rivendell.

            So it was that he was quite pleased to find one of Elrond's esteemed advisors, Arestor, casually practicing with an elegant curved elven blade. Vienasar, who in public tended to be far more tactful than his sister, nodded politely to the elf lord and requested the honor of a casual duel.

            **Erestor looked at Vienasar in some disbelief. Where had this façade of civility come from? Whether or not he had actually done anything, he was implicitly involved in his sister's vile manipulations of Lord Elrond's mind, and there could be no question that Glorfindel had caught him doing something that few elves did and fewer still would admit to. Though he had always wondered about some of those Lorien guys… but that was neither here nor there. What was here was the foreign elf, apparently unaware of the current state of his sword and desiring to engage in swordplay. Well, this could be fun. Despite all the boasts, Erestor seriously doubted that Vienasar knew anything about the kind of swordplay that didn't involve his namesake, and, though he doubted he could actually harm the jerk, it would still feel good to embarrass him. So Erestor responded by bowing slightly, waving his weapon in an elegant flourish, and holding it in front of him, wondering how an elf with half a sword would attempt to attack him.**

Vienasar watched Erestor in some disbelief. Was this the best pre-duel flourish the elf lord could put together? Maybe this wouldn't be the challenge he had expected. Grabbing the hilt of his own weapon, he dramatically pulled it forth from the scabbard, rotated his wrist, flipped it to the other hand, rotated it again, spun it through the air, thrust it behind him, threw it between his legs and over his head, shook his booty a couple times on the off chance that Arwen was watching from her window and for the benefit of the ladies strolling by the river, caught it again, and held it in front of him, with his weight on his forward leg and the sword pointing at his foe, finalizing it with an exclamation of "On guard!" This time, though, it was Erestor who was watching him in disbelief, with perhaps a bit of laughter in his face. Vienasar followed the other elf's eyes and then began laughing himself when he realized what had happened: he had left the bottom half of his sword in the scabbard. So this is what part of what his future adopted brother-in-law had endured when he had come to the hobbits as a mysterious ranger with a broken sword.

            **It took all of Erestor's concentration not to laugh at this fool. It certainly had taken him long enough to discover what Elladan had done to his blade, and he did not even seem perturbed by it. Several moments of awkward silence passed as Erestor incredulously watched Vienasar, who was looking at his now-useless sword with what could best be described as a silly grin on his face.**

**            Finally, he could not take it anymore. Remembering the plan conceived long before the true extent of these twins' sick malice became known, Erestor suggested that they might wish to go and get the sword repaired. The villain only laughed. "Not yet. I want to play around with it like this first. It might even the odds between us." "Even the odds?" thought Erestor. "More like give me an even greater advantage." But he did not express such confidence aloud, instead only nodding his head in dubious acquiescence. The strange elf had not bothered to question the fact that both of them were using sharp and fully serviceable weapons, and Erestor did have to wonder if Vienasar could in fact die on account of his own stupidity.**

Vienasar wondered why his opponent was so supremely confident. Had he not heard of the amazing military prowess of the immortal Prince Vienasar, son and heir of King Ralas Firnquareion of Nantaurea? Well, it was his loss. Without further inaction, Vienasar crouched protectively and scuttled forward like a crab on the attack. As their blades clashed, he began mentally reviewing his accomplishments, still appalled that Erestor had heard of none of them. He had killed his first orc at six. He had single-handedly slaughtered the evil hordes of Warivadmin who had threatened fair Nantaurea while his father and sister were abroad. He had slain…

            **Erestor could not understand what the Hall was going on. The contest was perfectly even. His foe had parried every single stroke and Erestor actually had to work to defend himself. Which was very odd, considering that Vienasar was fighting as though he had never held a sword, intact or otherwise, in his entire life. And yet, somehow, every stroke, no matter how wild or seemingly ineffective, would have struck him had he not moved to block it. How was this possible? The only answer he could come up with was that the twins' powers extended beyond being able to manipulate the sexual thoughts of others.**

…And then there was the time Barney, the reluctant Balrog, had tried to attack Nantaurea on a dare from his more macho Balrog friends. The good prince had given the would-be assailant a talk on standing up for himself ("Stand up for yourself, Barney! You don't need the approval of those jerks. If you don't want to slaughter innocents for personal gain, nothing those bullies can say can make you) before going off and butchering said macho Balrog friends. As a side note, Barney had relocated to the mines beneath Caradhras (formerly occupied by another victim of Vienasar's known only as 'Durin's Bane') shortly after his elf friend had wiped out his other acquaintances, where his ego would be fed by the worship of goblins. But he would never forget the advice to stand up for himself… That massacre had brought Vienasar's Balrog-head count to twenty six, and that excluded those with which his sister had aided him. No other Balrog-slayer could claim anything approaching that many. Which reminded him of a question he had been meaning to ask… Bringing his thoughts back to the combat at hand, Vienasar disengaged from his latest parry and inquired of Erestor a question that had been nagging him since he first entered this world: "Is Rivendell Glorfindel the same as Gondolin Glorfindel? Or just his namesake?"

            **Erestor sighed. It wasn't enough that this obnoxious youngling was almost beating him with a sword, he was also seeking a definitive answer to one of the greatest mysteries in Middle-earth. Erestor himself was uncertain. It had never even occurred to him to raise the question until centuries after he had first met Glorfindel and, when he did, Glorfindel had merely raised his eyebrows suggestively and kept his mouth shut. And, after thinking about it, Erestor had come to the conclusion that he just did not care. Whatever Glorfindel's past (or lack of the same) entailed, it would not affect their friendship. But there was no way he was going to admit to Vienasar that he did not know the answer. One solution was to be enigmatic. The other was to bluff enigmatically. The former would be easier, but the latter was often more fun and, more to the point, far better suited for swordplay conversation.**

            "Are you the same Vienasar who fought under Maedhros?" Vienasar stopped his blow short. That wasn't the answer he had been expecting. And he was pretty sure that he was the only Vienasar ever to exist. Before he could answer, though, Erestor elaborated. "The Vienasar who accounted for more than half of the orc casualties at Dagor Aglareb? And killed a Balrog before falling in Dagor Bragollach?" Vienasar paused again. He was pretty sure that he had never been to the Halls of Mandos, and even more sure that he hadn't come back therefrom, but this First Age Vienasar sounded like his type of guy, and perhaps there was respect to be gained by pretending to be one in the same. "Perhaps."

            "Exactly. Just as, even if you were such an individual, you would not willingly disclose your identity, neither does Glorfindel trust the truth of his background to any except his closest friends."

            **Vienasar looked dissatisfied with that response. Erestor wasn't surprised, but he was glad that Vienasar had proverbially swallowed the tale of his namesake hook, line, and sinker. That appeal to his pride had been rather subtly and skillfully done, in Erestor's estimation, and he was definitely looking forward to the time when Vienasar would attempt to relate the deeds of this fictional Vienasar to another inhabitant of Imladris. That would be worth a laugh in these otherwise trying times.**

**            But Vienasar didn't seem to be buying all of the explanation. "And you mean to tell me that you aren't one of his closest friends?"**

**            Erestor paused and made a couple more difficult attacks while considering the next step of his bluff. He decided, after both of his moves were successfully blocked, that he might be best off being honest and explaining his own rationalization of the problem. "Before I knew the truth, I thought of it in terms of what it meant to Imladris as a community. If Glorfindel is indeed the First Age hero, then we as a community are far better protected and have another worthy leader. On the other hand, if the elf who engaged the Witch King outside Fornost and drove him from the north was a First Age Balrog-slayer, then it detracts from the heroism of that act, because driving off the Witch King was just another day's work, and it makes us question our own abilities. Glorfindel the Balrog-slayer can fight the Witch King and come out on top, but could Lord Elrond defeat that evil in single combat? Could I? Neither of us have a pedigree like Glorfindel's in single combat with supremely evil monsters, so who could say? But if Glorfindel had never fought a Balrog, then he was just another elf who, given an opportunity, made the most of it. And, on top of that, there's the question of the Valar. On the one hand, if they let Glorfindel go, then he's a living example of the mercy and goodness of the Valar who proves that they are still involved in the world. On the other hand, if there is only one Glorfindel, then why is he the only elf sent back to us in our time of need? What was the specific purpose for his return? Is there some great task remaining for him that no one else could accomplish? Will it fall to him to destroy the evil Ring that has come to us? So there are difficult implications to think about no matter what the full extent of his past is. So, no, I'm not going to tell you the answer. This is Middle-earth. Do you think I would just make it really easy for you by telling you the response to your inquiry?"**

It had been some time since Vienasar had heard such a load of bull (the last time being the reasons his father gave for not letting him go to that 'wine-tasting' party), but before he could respond, he had to parry the particularly vicious blow with which Erestor had renewed the fight. As he took a step back, though, he became aware of a much-desired presence behind him. He whirled around. She was looking down, as though she had been checking out his ass… which was odd, considering that he had not been actively projecting charm, so he had attracted her with only the passive charm exuded all the time by his perfect body. Not that there was anything wrong with that.

            "Erestor, how could you allow such a lovely specimen into Rivendell without telling me? Even Legolas would look ordinary next to him. Oh, and look! He is so skilled as to fight you with a broken blade? I love a man who can fight with less than a whole sword. Surely you would do the honor of introducing me to him."

            **Erestor scowled. This scum now had Arwen wrapped around his finger, and he had yet to even say a word to her. There was only one possible solution to this madness. Before he could do so, however, Vienasar turned back. "Thank you, good sir, for doing me the honor of practicing with me. I am, however, a bit tired from our fight and need a rest or…" He trailed off, and Erestor looked at him blankly. "It's a joke: a rest or, Erestor…" The object of said 'joke' continued to stare forward in disbelief, but Arwen starting laughing, a silly expression on her face. Vienasar turned and looked at her, beaming happily. Erestor growled and advanced, as though to make the requested introduction, but just as he reached Vienasar he drew up his sword and clubbed the fiend on the back of the head.**

            Vienasar crumpled to the ground. He fought to regain control of his swimming consciousness but knew it would be a losing battle. Before things went black, though, he felt his love kneeling over him and saying "Take him to my room. I have enough skill to heal this without disturbing my father." Even as he blacked out, the smile remained fixed on his face. When he woke up, he would be in bed and alone with Arwen.


	6. Ch V: Close Encounters of the Less than ...

(A/N: My apologies for taking so long to update; I had too many papers and finals in April to give much attention to fanfic. As with the last chapter, I'm going to let Crowbait and TK handle the reviews. No offense is intended, and if you read between the lines you'll find what I would say if I were doing the responses straight up.

This chapter does, once again, resort to some fairly juvenile and slightly tasteless humor, for which I apologize. I also include some poetry so bad that it makes the infamous _Tralalalally_ poem sound like a classy art song.

For the record, **Werecat99**,** Lady LeBeau**,****and anyone else who was wondering, any and all errors and inconsistencies, especially misspellings, are intentional (this being badfic) or at least I will say they are to cover my posterior. Anyone attempting to scrutinize or otherwise take this seriously will suffer the wrath of Awrin (my mini-Balrog). Also for the record, I abhor slash.

Two major parts of this chapter need to be credited:

1) The opening of this chapter is good-natured payback to **TreeHugger** and **Dragon-of-the-north** for both the subject matter and cliffhanger associated therewith in _The Silver Peacock and the Skulking Cutpurse_.

2) This chapter introduces an AU version of Tanglinna, an excellently characterized OC belonging to **TreeHugger** who has become something of an institution unto himself, based on the fact that I am no less than the fifth author to write a story including him. He makes reference to incidents that occur in _Elrond's Most Forgettable Birthday_. Thanks to **Dragon-of-the-north** for the suggestion that led to his inclusion and also for suggesting Vienasar's worry over what Huchelda was doing at the forge.

To the Halls of Mandos in a Backpack

Chapter V: Close Encounters of the Less than Savory Kind

"Another two months, another chapter, eh Theodosia?"

"More or less. I really wish we could move faster, but the Canonical Resistance Movement seems to be slowing our creative juices."

"And certainly messing with our intentions. I mean, look what they made me do in this chapter!?!"

(Giggles) "Yes, they certainly did _screw_ around with you." (Begins to lose control of her laughter) "Ahem. Should we move on to the review responses?"

(Glares at his cowriter and again wonders why he puts up with her) "Indeed. Thank you, **Werecat99**, for getting to this story as you did. We are blushing over your description of this as brilliant."

"Although I do take offense to you calling our perfect OCs obnoxious. And there is some concern about the CRM's secret weapon, though I hope we may accomplish our purpose before it arrives. I'm quite glad that you enjoyed it, **makoto-47**, and I'm sorry that it took us so long to address the little cliffhanger."

"**Dragon-of-the-north**- that's one long review. A hug and kiss for Vienasar's favorite fangurl. My apologies to Alagaith, whom I much admire, for making him choke."

"I must concur with you that I have my suspicions about Arwen's earnestness, especially after this chapter. I accept your apology, though I take some offense at your ill-conceived efforts to make a match between me and my ill-groomed coauthor. I suspect that the concussions will probably continue, and even I am beginning to pity Elrond, having to heal with all that stuff on his mind. If only he was willing to accept our aid…"

"We never offered, Theodosia, and even if we had he would be crazy to accept it after what you tried to do to him."

(Glares) "Well, if you thought **Dragon**'s was long, look at **TreeHugger**'s."

"Amazing. I stand in awe of your thorough and entertaining review; it was almost as fun to read as another chapter of your stories. The answers you seek are forthcoming."

"Yes, **Greetings from Mordor**, we are romantic, and strongly looking forward to that opportunity.** Lady LeBeau**, I'll agree with you that cruel and unusual is entertaining, as long as it is happening to someone else."

"My regrets that I am not up to your caliber. I, too, would be interested in buying a copy of Elladan's book; it would be very useful to be able to cuss without freaking out Theodosia's cat."

"Shall I provide the usual disclaimer? Vienasar and Huchelda belong to us, while characters with recognizable names and the setting belong to that Tolkein guy."

"Awrin has a few last words before we commence with the story."

(Clears her fire-scarred throat and begins) "Tanglinna- welcome (if it can be called that) to this mess the kingmaker has created. He strongly sympathizes with the sentiments you expressed in your review. You will most certainly have the opportunity to contribute to Elladan's compilation of curses. **Greetings from Mordor**- both names (Theodosia _King_ and _Crow_bait) are intended to allude to the kingmaker's nicknames. **Laureline**- I elected to call Vienasar a Joseph Bill instead of a Marty Stu merely because the latter is an obvious ripoff of the original using very uncommon names, while Joseph Bill reflects back to the original (Mary/Joseph) while also conveying the fear present in the former (you don't want to be billed just as you don't want to be sued). **Everybody**- my apologies for the cliffhanger. It will be resolved right now."

Love is in the Air, Chapter 5- Unlikely Bedfellows

Vienasar sighed as he rolled over. He could not believe how easy this had turned out. No long, painful courtship, no lengthy confrontation with her father that might have gone more quickly if his sister's blackmail attempts had worked, nothing that required him to put forth an effort or turn on his magically enhanced charm. If his sister was around, he would have laughed in her face, but on the other hand he probably would not have wanted his relatives (or anyone else, for that matter) to witness his relations. Then again, it might have been worth it, just because of how much it would have pained Huchelda to see a man doing things with someone other than another man or herself. He nuzzled closer to the soft, smooth, drop dead gorgeous piece of flesh sleeping contentedly next to him. Not close enough. He swung his leg up over hers. He heard a faint peal of laughter, including someone… guffawing right next to his face.

His eyes shot open. The face sharing a pillow with him was not that of his beloved, but an Uruk face so ugly and so grotesquely deformed that it was a wonder that it could breath, much less guffaw. Despite some little voice in his head saying "I will not scream like a girl, I will calmly reach for my sword and dispatch of this creature," he screamed nonetheless. "I… WILL NOT… SCREEEEEAAAAAM… LIKE A GIRL!!!!"

He tried to move away, but the monster somewhat awkwardly threw its arms around him and rolled on top of him. His screams attained a new octave as the Uruk began gyrating in the vicinity of his midsection and saying, in a voice that was not as deep as one might expect from a huge orc, "Oh, yes, love, this is how Glormog likes them, oh yes: beautiful, unspoiled, wriggling, and screaming." It sounded as though the Uruk might have cussed and spat, but Vienasar neither heard the former clearly nor felt the latter.

"Okay, Elrohir, let's end this before poor Glorfindel pukes all over his padding."

"Or Vienasar makes that mattress any dirtier than it already is, come to that."

The Uruk rolled off the bed and walked gracelessly forth from the bedroom. Vienasar carefully shifted to an upright position and surveyed the others in the room. In a semicircle around the foot of the bed stood Erestor, looking as though he was trying desperately, and not entirely succeeding, to restore his composure, Huchelda and one of the twins, presumably Elrohir, both doubled over with laughter and seemingly incapable of speech, and Arwen, giggling slightly but also giving her brother a very stern look. "Out, out, all of you, before he gives you the strangling you rightly deserve." Swishing his hair over his shoulder, Erestor managed to walk out with the grace, dignity, and bearing typical of an elf lord, before promptly laughing out loud as soon as he had put the room behind him. The two (unrelated) twins, by contrast, did not even attempt to stand up or cease laughing, thus disproving any number of theories about impeccable manners by elves in the house of Elrond.

Vienasar's breathing returned to normal as Arwen sat on the bed next to him. "I'm sorry. My brother just could not resist the opportunity to mess with your mind, Glorfindel apparently had some reason to want to wreak vengeance on you, and, you do have to admit, it was pretty funny. How's your head?"

Vienasar's anger at that particularly crude prank was fading as he looked upon his beloved. Even if it had only been a dream, he still had opportunities to make it reality. He smiled at her. "Fairly well. You are quite the healer."

She smiled back at him. He disentangled his arm from blankets and was about to lay it around her waist when Huchelda's voice, still tinged with laughter, rang from the hallway. "Arwen? Gandalf would like a word."

Arwen got up, grinned apologetically, and walked out of the room, passing Huchelda as she came in. Before Vienasar could yell at her, she addressed him in a tone even more authoritative than was usual. "Throw off the covers and get out of the bed." He did so. She took one look at the mattress, coughed with embarrassment, and looked away. "Elrohir was right; that bedding certainly has lost its virginity. Should I be saying 'I told you so' in response to your statement that you would never do _that_ again?"

Vienasar at least had the grace to look abashed. "Stuff it, sis. It isn't as though I was conscious at the time. So why did you let them do that to me? And how long have I been out?"

"In answer to your last question, you were hit in the head yesterday morning and the sun is close to setting now. Regarding the slightly immature but nonetheless uproarious prank, Elrohir apparently came up to join Arwen in caring for you shortly after she brought you here. He, and I have absolutely no idea where he got this impression, somehow got the idea that you were faking an injury so that you could be alone in a bedroom with his sister. Apparently, sometime early this morning you began talking to and amorously engaging the mattress as though it were Elrohir's innocent sister and, not taking too kindly to this, he hatched a plan of revenge. When I came to visit you a couple hours ago, he said that, as much as he despised some of my actions, it would be cruel and unusual punishment not to allow me to witness the fruit of his scheme."

Vienasar glared at her. "And what, pray tell, were you doing such that you couldn't visit me until a couple hours ago?"

"Top secret tasks in the smithy. None of your business."

"Oh Valar. You weren't trying to reforge Narsil, were you?"

"No, though now that you mention it…"

"As much as you might think it would be a way to win Aragorn, I definitely wouldn't suggest it."

Huchelda brought her hand up near her heart. "Considering how difficult this turned out to be, I have to agree with you." Vienasar opened his mouth to question her, but before he could do so she hastily continued. "In other developments, Elrond, with some assistance from Gandalf and possibly one of the other hobbits, is still hard at work trying to heal Frodo. Everyone seems to be somewhat more accepting of my presence, though that may be at least in part due to that fact that numerous others are descending on Rivendell for the Council, among them a handful of dwarves and several elves from Mirkywood, led by their Prince Legolas. Speaking of whom, you need to get out of bed and cleaned up so that Elrohir can take that mattress and stick it on Legolas' bed. Apparently there is some ongoing mischievous competitiveness between those two that Elrond's twins want to get ahead on."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Meanwhile, down in one of Lord Elrond's prison cells, a golden-haired elf was depositing what had been his lunch in a bucket that normally would serve as a prisoner's bedpan (and thus was accustomed to such abuse). Against the wall lay the Uruk skin, beneath a surprisingly large pile of blankets, pillows, and other bits of fabric used to fill out the beast's musculature. How Elrond had obtained the Uruk skin and why he had kept it were mysteries even to Glorfindel, mysteries that he really did not feel like contemplating while he vomited forth his guts. Why had he let the twins get him involved in this? Yes, he wanted to get back at Vienasar for that incident, but this prank was just as, if not more, unpleasant for the prankster than the prankee. He would have to find some way to get back at Elrohir for this…**

** As Glorfindel began to feel that his retching was over, a silver-haired elf appeared in the entrance to the cell, looking surprised and slightly apprehensive. "Glorfindel? Are you unwell? That was a dumb question. Do you need me to get you some medicine?" Glorfindel shook his head. "Just some post-prank nausea. What are you doing down here?"**

** Tanglinna raised an eyebrow. "I might ask the same of you. Apparently there is some ongoing mischief competition between Legolas and the twins that Legolas was about to renew and he suggested that I go somewhere the twins are unlikely to go lest I get caught in the crossfire. So I figured I'd come down here, since I don't imagine the twins often voluntarily visit the cells, and catch up on old memories." He sat down against the wall opposite from Glorfindel. "So what prank did you get involved in?"**

** Glorfindel had no particular desire to relive that experience, but he was aware that, for whatever reason, his head was clearer now than it had been at any other time since Vienasar and Huchelda had arrived. More to the point, he realized that Tanglinna and the other new arrivals had probably not been told about all the dangers associated with those twins and that Tanglinna was unlikely to come to the attention of the twins as long as he was careful.**

** Thus Tanglinna was enlightened regarding the sinister nature of the twins, the odd happenings and evil acts they had committed since their arrival (at least those Glorfindel could remember), and the especially nasty prank in which he had lately participated. Tanglinna shuddered slightly upon hearing that, commented that such… appetites among orcs were not unheard of, as he knew from unpleasant personal experience, and suggested that he should find some wine with which they could forget those repulsive incidents.**

** As Tanglinna stepped into the passage, Elrohir ran into him at fairly high speed. Unfazed, Tanglinna asked "Elrohir, could you point me to the wine cellar?" Elrohir, perhaps distracted by the thought of whatever he had been running from, did not remember that all Mirkwood elves were banned from entering Elrond's wine cellar following a highly amusing incident many years past and merely pointed behind him, saying "Up the stairs, first door on the right." Tanglinna nodded, and Elrohir took off again. Shortly behind him came Legolas, also running at very high speed and with his groin completely soaked. Tanglinna shook his head, deciding that, having suffered negative consequences up to and including imprisonment for becoming involved in such childish mischief, he probably did not want to know.**

** He returned to the cell with two bottles of Dorwinion, one of which he handed to Glorfindel, but Glorfindel set it aside. "We should share one, since neither of us can afford to lose our wits on account of alcohol." Having taken a swig, Tanglinna passed it over. "Now, about these twins. Do we know anything about their heritage? Their behavior strikes me as awfully suspicious…"**

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite all the new arrivals, dinner was an unusually casual affair. With the Lord of Rivendell occupied by Frodo and the weather surprisingly, but pleasantly, warm for October, Erestor made the executive decision that supper would be buffet style and encouraged everyone to eat beneath the falling leaves. Neither Vienasar nor Huchelda (nor any of the others, for that matter) needed much encouragement to withdraw from the manmade (or rather elfmade) structures of Rivendell.

With Elladan largely out of the picture because Elrond needed him to guard and serve the healing effort, Elrohir had nonetheless begun the autumn offensive against Prince Legolas and immediately achieved a resounding success. Having dismissed the other Mirkwooders, Legolas had sat down for what he thought would be a quiet afternoon drinking and catching up on old times with his friend, the incredibly hunky and gloriously well-muscled Aragorn. In a feat of elven craftsmanship that would probably be wondered at for the rest of the age, Elrohir had somehow managed to, without being detected, run a small piece of tubing up through the cushion of the chair and into at least one layer of Legolas' garments. Elrohir then proceeded to, every time Legolas took a sip, pump a little bit of water through the tube, which would appear shortly thereafter on the front of Legolas' pants without him noticing. Despite Aragorn's increasingly uncontained mirth, Legolas was completely and utterly soaked before he realized what was afoot. Legolas proceeded to spend the next hour or so pursuing Elrohir up and down the buildings that composed Rivendell, during which time, in addition to whatever damage they did to each other, Erestor was bruised after being bumped down a flight of steps, Arwen took a bucketful of water to the face, and at least one of the dwarves fell into a vat of undiluted elven perfume (originally intended as a present for Galadriel).

As this pursuit was still believed to be ongoing, dining outside was considered an excellent idea for all concerned. Huchelda took the opportunity to locate and talk to her beloved Aragorn away from Elrohir's protective eye. Unfortunately, when she found him he was sitting next to a gently flowing stream with Arwen at his side. Deciding to try and make the best of a suboptimal situation, Huchelda sat down opposite them, with her back to the stream. Arwen looked slightly annoyed at the interruption but said nothing, while Aragorn studied Huchelda intently as though he hadn't noticed her indescribable beauty before. Which, in fact, he had not. As much as Huchelda just wanted to lean in and begin making out with him on the riverbank, Arwen's presence precluded such a display, at least at this stage of their relationship. To placate this potential rival, Huchelda turned the subject to something they could both laugh at and addressed Aragorn. "It's a shame you weren't around to see Glorfindel and my brother this afternoon. It was so delightfully funny! I almost wet my pants, I was laughing so hard." Arwen's sour face softened as she began giggling at the memory. Aragorn, whom Arwen had apparently told already, also started chuckling, and he took the opening to describe to both ladies the prank Elrohir had pulled on Legolas in excruciatingly amusing detail.

Before Aragorn had finished, however, Elrohir had come upon the little party and immediately moved to interpose himself between Huchelda and the object of her affections. He began to suggest that Huchelda move on (as though she would actually obey the sweating and dirty elf) but was interrupted by a squirrel hopping up on his shoulder and striking an undeniably cute pose. Unaware that, upon seeing the squirrel, both Aragorn and Arwen had gotten to their feet and were slowly backing away, Huchelda asked Elrohir whose squirrel it was. "I believe that Legolas… trained… it…"

As Elrohir's voice trailed off, Huchelda saw the elf in question standing several feet behind Elrohir, a malicious grin lightening his irate and frustrated face and looking like nothing so much as an exhausted cat about to pounce on his prey. Despite being unable to see his assailant, Elrohir somehow managed to duck and roll out of the way just as Legolas left his feet to hit him with a flying tackle. This sudden turn of events caused Legolas to hit Huchelda instead. For an instant, their bodies were together and she was aware that, in spite of his effeminate appearance, he was surprisingly muscular. Then his momentum sent both of them tumbling into the river.

For Vienasar, supping outside was an effort at escapism as much as anything else. Apparently, every single individual in Rivendell knew what he had done in the bed and how he was the victim of a particularly nasty shenanigan and had consequently taken every available opportunity to laugh at him. To him, however, peace and quiet were proving to be as elusive as Elrohir was to Legolas. He had been sitting down not five minutes when he was accosted by a handful of dwarves, at least one of whom smelled like a human prostitute in a cheap tavern trying desperately to attract elven patrons and, considering the degree to which the dwarf reeked of extremely strong perfumes, probably failing miserably.

One of the dwarves addressed the others. "Auch, lads, it's Bonnie Prince 'Orny, Lord Pimp of the Bedroom Furnishin's." A second added, "Las' night 'e conquered the mattress; tonigh' will 'e take on the dresser?" Yet another, likely the source of the overpowering scent, contributed, "Jus' tell me you used a sheet for protection. It'd be a shame if that poor bed 'ad caught one of your filthy elvish… diseases."

Vienasar scowled. As tempting as it would be to strangle all of them, it wouldn't solve any problems. Plus the fact that he was unsure whether or not he could retain consciousness if he moved much closer to the source of the fragrance. So he responded with the only pseudo-appropriate comeback in his arsenal: "And how many Balrogs have you killed, my short, aromatic friends, eh? Not twenty six, I should think." He paused slightly as an unfamiliar silver-haired elf passed. "Twenty seven, if you count the Balrog I killed before falling in Dagor Bragollach."

The dwarves glared at him and made what might have been obscene hand gestures as they moved on, but the third one to speak commented, "None, and I'd be a stupid dwarf to try, what with the certainty of death and small chance of success."

The silver-haired elf was still standing there, his face incredulous. "You were at Dagor Bragollach?" Vienasar, remembering what Erestor had told him, answered "Yep, I served there and at Dagor Aglareb under my lord Maedhros." The silver-haired elf raised an eyebrow. "And who were your parents? And why did the Valar elect to send you back to the living?" Vienasar gave what he hoped was an enigmatic grin. "Those are matters between my parents, the Valar, and me." The silver-haired elf narrowed his eyes but said nothing, instead walking back toward Elrond's library.

Some minutes later, as he was heading back toward the kitchen with his dishes, he heard what sounded like Merry, Pippin, and possibly Bilbo singing to a large crowd.

_The bed now lies dead.  
__It lost its maid-head._  
_That twin was quite high,_  
_And do you know why?  
__ He's in love with a mattress,  
__ A mattress, a mattress,  
__ In love with a mattress,  
__ Down here in the valley.  
__ Ha ha!_

_Behavior of his  
__Most appalling is.  
__Such horrible luck  
__The bedding to ----.  
__ He's in love with a mattress,  
__ A mattress, a mattress,  
__ In love with a mattress,  
__ Down here in the valley.  
__ Ha ha!_

_He thought that it was  
__Sweet Arwen because  
__A pillow that's bare  
__Feels much like her hair.  
__ He's in love with a princess,  
__ A princess, a princess,  
__ In love with a princess,  
__ The queen of the valley.  
__ Ha ha!_

_In bed there I bet  
__Another he met.  
__It made fair the day,  
__That orc being gay.  
__ He's in love with an Uruk,  
__ An Uruk, an Uruk,  
__ In love with an Uruk,  
__ Ill__ befalls the valley.  
__ Ha ha!_

_Three lovers had he.  
__Two were not be.  
__Bye, princess who's hot,  
__And Uruk who's not,  
__Because  
__He's in love with a mattress,  
__A mattress, a mattress,  
__ In love with a mattress,  
__Down here in the valley.  
__Ha ha!  
__ Ha ha ha!_

As the applause reached fairly impressive levels, Vienasar made the executive decision to seclude himself in his quarters until someone else did something really embarrassing.

Some time later, Vienasar awoke to the sound of a piercing shriek. His sister, who was still not entirely dry following her unexpected plunge into the unpleasantly cold water, surmised that it was Legolas screaming upon discovering the now infamous mattress, its preexisting nastiness presumably exacerbated by Elrohir's machinations. Huchelda sighed. "The poor prince has not had a particularly good day." Vienasar's last thought before dozing off again was that it seemed odd that she would direct that statement toward Legolas and not him.


	7. Ch VI: Of Squirrels, Rabbits, and Dirty ...

To the Halls of Mandos in a Backpack

Chapter VI: Of Squirrels, Rabbits, and Dirty-Minded Writers

Love is in the Air, Ch. 6- Dance Dance Revolution

            Huchelda couldn't help but smile at her reflection as she brushed her luminous golden hair. Tonight would be the night! She was going to lead Aragorn to the bridge and there they would pledge to spend their lives together. Vienasar had already promised to make sure that Arwen was otherwise occupied, and she knew he would follow her there if she asked him to; with her rival taken out of the picture, Aragorn would be completely unable to refuse her charms. She was absolutely giddy with excitement. Tonight, she would sleep, if one could call it that, somewhere besides this room she shared with her brother. She giggled to herself as she wondered where he would take her for their tryst.

            Across the room, Vienasar's incomparable muscles rippled as he went through his wardrobe, trying to decide what he should wear. Tonight would be the night! He was going to lead Arwen to the bridge, and there they would pledge to spend their lives together. When he had asked Huchelda if she could keep Aragorn occupied enough for him to slip away with Arwen, she replied that she was already planning something with Aragorn tonight that would certainly keep Aragorn out of his way if he could keep Arwen occupied. Vienasar wondered what happy twist of fate it was that both of them were already planning; he would take Arwen to the bridge, she would take Aragorn wherever it was she planned to take him, and both of them would finally succeed in doing what had been denied them for so long.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            **Elrond had collapsed into an armchair outside the room Frodo was in. After days of toiling over the injured hobbit, unable to bring about much improvement in him, he had finally fallen asleep where he stood, the combination of concussions, unpleasant images, mental invasions, alcohol, and extended healing efforts finally overcoming his efforts to remain conscious. His head had fallen against the hobbit's shoulder and chest and his ear had heard more than felt the indescribable noise of a magical knife fragment slowly cutting through tissue like a hobbit on his thirty-eighth fish of the night: very slowly, but with a grim determination to achieve its goal. **

**            Finally discovering the reason for Frodo's continued struggles gave him one last burst of energy, with which he managed to retrieve and destroy the weapon of the Witch King. He was now entirely spent. He had called Erestor so he could give orders regarding the feast to be held that night, formally welcoming the hobbits, elves, man of Gondor, and, much to his chagrin, dwarves who had converged on Rivendell for the Council. Then he would sleep as long as humanly (elvenly?) possible.**

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Upon hearing Erestor walk by, Huchelda decided to follow him. Her brother's indecisive pawing through the closet was really getting on her nerves and she was beginning to realize that, contrary to popular belief, there indeed was a point at which hair could not become any shinier.

            Erestor unknowingly led her toward Frodo's bedroom, where she surmised from the number of hobbits running in and out that the injured one was indeed awake. She shrugged to herself; his survival was probably a good thing, since he was rather cute if nothing else. Not that cute could match Aragorn's delightfully rugged manliness, but still…

            As Erestor entered the room, Huchelda remained behind, listening to a groggy and sick-sounding Elrond address his advisor. "Frodo's awake. Big feast tonight, for him and all the visitors I haven't had time to properly welcome. With singing afterward."

            **Erestor nodded, and Elrond began to nod off when another idea came unbidden to his mind, and he was too weary to question it. "And dancing."**

            In the hallway, Huchelda grinned as he heard him speak. She hadn't lost her touch entirely.

            **"Dancing, my Lord?"**** Elrond nodded tiredly, and Erestor knew better than to argue. "We will hold the council tomorrow." As Erestor began to walk out, Elrond's last thought was to wonder whether Galadriel would make it for the council.**

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            **Some distance away, Galadriel made a mental note, which she then conveyed to Haldir and the rest of her retinue, to not underestimate the powers of these twins. For the first part of the journey, there was no sign of the accelerated travel time and she was mentally cursing herself for undertaking such an absurd quest. She had decided to give it one more day, at which point she would admit defeat, turn back, and look forward to mentally cursing Elrond for suggesting this trip and thereby depriving her of her extensive daily beauty treatments.**

**            That morning, however, the land was indeed warped. They were through the Gladden Fields before midmorning, were entering the pass through the ****Misty****Mountains**** at ****midday****, and would be at Rivendell in plenty of time for supper. Galadriel was amazed, not only at this phenomenon, but with the power it would have taken to bring it about. These twins were more than an annoyance; they were a threat to the very existence of Middle-earth, and as such they were both more dangerous and more insidious than even Sauron.**

**            However, she would cross that bridge when she came to it and hope that Haldir's brothers did not take forever assembling the weapon. Further, Mithrandir had contacted her to enlighten her regarding the _other_ crisis in Rivendell at the moment, mainly the presence of Frodo, all his friends, and the Ring. Dealing with that issue would also require much thought, but that was another bridge she would cross later. All she had to worry about at the moment was her travel-weary appearance. Being the renowned Lady of Light, Galadriel absolutely _had_ to look good for her arrival in Rivendell. With that in mind, she pulled out her compact and began powdering her face. As she did so, she decided that she might as well use the Mirror contained therein. Her own reflection faded into that of a wide-eyed Halfling with a ring around his neck. "Frodo," she breathed, wondering how so small a creature could bear so great a burden. She then gasped with mingled fear and delight at the rapid succession of images before her.**

**            Goblins on the borders of Lorien. _Joyful._ Elessar sleeping under the stars. _My, but I suppose there is a good reason Arwen is attracted to him._ The assembled Nazgul in thunderous pursuit of a rider on a white horse. _My granddaughter! It's bad enough that those horny incorporeal jerks have a thing for me. Must they chase her too?_ Frodo without his shirt on. _It's amazing how much hot muscle can be fit on so small a frame_. Uruks massed outside the Fortress of Rohan. _Damn. I bet I'll get stuck bailing them out_. Denethor, Steward of Gondor, changing out of seemingly filthy robes. _Denethor?__ What the? I don't need to see this!_ Orcs attacking Lorien. _Damn. Just what I needed._ Legolas bathing. _Just don't think about it, focus on Celeborn. Celeborn. Celeborn._ Orcs sweeping through Osgiliath. _As if that city hasn't been taken enough.__ Or really merits defending now_. Faramir sweating as the fire blazed around him. _And in such a manly fashion.__ Wait a second. Fire?_ Orcs attacking Lorien. _Damn. Not again._ Eomer washing his hair. _Wow. I didn't realize that he ever did that_. Trolls entering the gates of Minas Tirith. _Not good. Though better than the Witch King, I suppose._ A dwarf with his back to her admiring what appeared to be a lock of her hair. _A dwarf?__ Why would I give my hair to a dwarf? I'm not that crazy, am I?_ Orcs engaged in combat with Thranduil and his people. _At least I'm not the only Elf Lord having to deal with the bastards._ Elrond beating his head against the wall in frustration. _I wonder if that's for something I did._ Orcs attacking Lorien yet again. _You'd think they would learn. _Pippin, clad in an unusual teal vest, singing lustily before a crowd of swooning females. _Damn, but he has a nice voice. I wonder if I could charm him into serving as a, um, entertainer in Caras Galadhon._**

**            Galadriel blinked back into reality. She wondered how many of those things would come to pass. She still had serious doubts that Eomer ever washed his hair. Along the side of the road sat a white rabbit. It did not flee, as she might expect, but seemed to stare, first at her and then at Haldir, before scurrying off in the direction of Rivendell. Odd.**

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            **In Rivendell, most everyone was outside, enjoying the pleasant afternoon, but not venturing far from the buildings. Now free of his guard duties, Elladan had hastened to join his brother in his effort to generally make Legolas wish he were in Mirkwood, being, if the rumors Huchelda had told were true, tortured or whatever by his father. But Legolas had skipped sleep that night (for who could sleep on _that_ mattress) and had established a fairly extensive network of traps in the woods that he intended to lead his foes through. The twins were wise enough to coerce Glorfindel into triggering the first (a concealed vat of blue dye normally used for confections but also somewhat effective on light garments and exposed skin), but Glorfindel, now bearing the physical signs of a less than pleasant prank in addition to the psychological scars from the Uruk incident, had refused to believe that the Prince was responsible and merely stalked off, repeating his vow to get back at Elrohir and now Elladan.**

**            Not expecting that Legolas had taken the time or had the cleverness to create the gamut of tricks awaiting them, the twins followed his trail through the woods. With the help of his pet Nutsy, Legolas had recruited the squirrels of the woods to assist his efforts. The sudden weight of one would bring an overhanging branch down to hit the twins and snag their clothes, thus putting rips in otherwise quite stylish elven garments, scratches on otherwise smooth elven skin, and sap and leaves in otherwise shining elven hair, not to mention slowing their progress.**

**            When two sizable buckets of water hit them, they shrugged it off and continued their pursuit, unaware of the danger until Legolas, having doubled back, came up behind them and knocked each of them out by striking the backs of their heads with the buckets. When they came to, Legolas was nowhere to be seen and both elves had hordes of ants crawling over them, plus a hummingbird or three zipping around, at which point they realized that they had been doused, not just in water, but in sugar water. Both would need nice long baths to dispose of all the ants that had gotten into their hair and clothes as well as a few days to get over the twitch that both from that unpleasantly skin-crawling experience.**

**            And despite this, the worst was yet to come. Legolas had led them unusually deep in the woods before they came to a stop. Snagged fairly obviously in the low-hanging limb of a particularly large tree were a couple of long blonde hairs, proof that they were still on the right track. Elrohir took them to show to his brother and the ground beneath them suddenly heaved up, trapping them in a rope net. With them securely trapped, at least for the minute or so it would take Elladan to free his knife, Nutsy and several of new Rivendell friends changed the direction of the net's swing and then bit through the knot holding it together. Legolas, sitting in the tree above them, laughed his head off as they tried to free themselves from that into which they had been dropped: the freak of nature known as the Top Secret Woodland Rodent Waste Deposition Facility or, to translate Nutsy's name for it into more vernacular Westron, the Shit Pit.**

**            Before any of them could say anything, a horn blew in the distance. Despite the squirrel droppings clinging to them, both Elladan and Elrohir reached for their swords, the former crying "Orcs!" as the latter declared "They're coming for the Ring!" Legolas looked at them, raised his eyebrows in an expression of enigmatic joy, and declared "That is no orc horn!" before turning around skipping off in the direction of the Last Homely House, Nutsy, having made his daily contribution to the Deposition Facility, chirping happily on his shoulder.**

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Huchelda and Vienasar were among those talking outside. The former had left the building to get away from her brother's continuous worrying about his garb, while the latter feared that, with no one else in the room, his excitement over what would happen that night might lead him to do _that_ again. Outside, Huchelda was talking to some of her friends from Nantaurea while Vienasar conversed with Frodo who, having been on the receiving end of some of Merry and Pippin's jokes, could sympathize with him. And also the fact that, when Frodo was a young hobbit, the lass to whom he had given his heart had come into his bedroom, seen something that she had thought was evidence that Frodo had done the same thing Vienasar had done, and left him forever, leaving him heartbroken and, try as he might, unable to love another as he had her. Though Frodo's story was that a rat had been steeling feathers from the mattress for its nest, Vienasar wasn't sure the degree to which he believed that.

            When the horn had sounded, most of those outside had hastened to see who else had arrived and were surprised, with varying degrees of pleasure and annoyance, at the arrival of the Lady of Lorien, Haldir, and a few others.

            **Galadriel rode into the courtyard of Rivendell and was surprised by the large number of visitors present to greet her. Of her immediate family, only Arwen was present, and her eyes spent more time looking at Elessar than her. Much of the household, led by Erestor, was milling around as well. It took her a moment to realize that the blue elf, whose face and arms were the color of the sky, was indeed the great Glorfindel. She had to bite her tongue when she got the vision of him confronting the Witch King (or a Balrog, if one prefers the theory that there is only one elf named Glorfindel) and his adversary only laughing at his bizarre appearance. There were many other elves who, like her, were present solely for the council. She recognized representatives from Lindon and Mirkwood, the latter headed by its prince, who was looking as handsome as ever. Other elves were not for easily identifiable locales. She spotted two similar-looking elves who were beautiful beyond plausibility and guessed they must be the twins in question. One was standing in the midst of a crowd of women who looked like nothing so much as humans who had received ear augmentation and elvish beauty treatments.**

**            Other than the elves or the beings that most closely approached being elves, Mithrandir and the four hobbits were present, as were, standing closer to the woods like the outsiders they were, Boromir, some men presumably from Dale and, Galadriel wrinkled her nose slightly, a contingent of dwarves.**

**            Glorfindel stepped up, helped her dismount, and inquired as to her husband's whereabouts. "He went to meet someone else and escort her to Rivendell. And how did you manage to turn yourself such a lovely shade of blue? Some new magic I am unaware of?" Glorfindel muttered something about his Lord's twins.**

**            Speaking of whom, there was a sudden motion at the far edge of the courtyard as the Elladan and Elrohir came out of the forest. In the same instant, Galadriel became aware of a most delightful aroma, namely the perfume she so loved. "How sweet," she thought to herself, "my grandsons are such lovely and thoughtful individuals," and, like a moth in the presence of a light, she was drawn toward them.**

**            As she got close to them, however, the pleasant scent was overwhelmed by a stench much more (she struggled to come up with a dignified word for it) fecal. And, now that she looked more closely, both looked like they had, against the wishes of the inhabitants, spent the night in a den of weasels. Giving up on her reeking grandsons, Galadriel put her head back and began rigorously sniffing the air, trying to find the source of that intoxicating perfume. She noticed that Boromir seemed to be thinking that the Elf Witch was doing a good impression of a Nazgul with her sniffing. She silenced his thoughts, and those of everyone else in the immediate vicinity, by blasting a ring of charm at them.**

**            Her nose led her toward the dwarves and to one dwarf in particular, a younger and, curiously, more attractive specimen than the others. She went to one knee before him and, with one last whiff to confirm that she had found what she sought, she kissed his forehead and, sticking her face in his hair, began reveling in the smell of the perfume.**

**            If any had seen his face, they would have observed that Gimli was wide-eyed and stunned at being approached by the Elf Lady who all the non-elves believed made Thranduil look like a good, kind, perpetually fair, and respectful (at least with regard to mental autonomy) king. However, he was shocked even moreso because her unusual attention to his hair was giving him a very surprising faceful of her chest. The few dwarf maidens of his age in Erebor had nothing that could compare to this. Perhaps elves weren't as bad as he thought.**

**            Satiated for the moment, Galadriel pulled back but did not stand up, instead addressing the dwarf, who wore the same expression as Haldir did after being charmed to within an inch of his life. She addressed him, curiously but not unkindly. "Why would a dwarf choose to wear elven perfume, Master…?" she prompted.**

**            The dwarf did not respond and seemed to be having difficulty breathing. An older dwarf answered her. "Gimli, son of…" Galadriel cut him off. "Master Gimli. Why are you wearing elven perfume?"**

**            Upon hearing his name repeated by the lovely voice that somehow perfectly matched her lovely body, Gimli started. "I… er… mmm… I fell into a vat of the perfume while attempting to dive out of the way of Master Elrohir as he ran through the house."**

**            Galadriel whirled on her grandsons. "Why would you tear through the house so carelessly as to bring harm to this poor, kind dwarf? Get inside, both of you! Clean yourselves up! And don't let me see you again until you are ready to apologize to Gimli!"**

**            As the twins hurriedly slinked away, several people, including the blue elf, Arwen (who somehow did not look anywhere nearly as attractive at the moment as she had the day before), and the son of his father's despised captor, snickered. The latter also looked quite deliberately at Gimli with suggestively raised eyebrows, which he acknowledged with a slight nod and a sly grin.**

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            **Boromir**** remained in the Hall of Fire after most of the others had proceeded to the dance in the adjoining room, curiously enough dubbed the Terrace of Funk. He wondered if Elrond had been as drunk when he named it that as he had looked tonight. If Merry the Halfling had not kindly enlightened him regarding the strange situation prevalent in Imladris, he might have thought that the supposedly wise elf with whom the Free Peoples of Middle-earth would consult was either half-orc or more than halfway to becoming one. Having heard the story, he almost pitied the guy. At least he had spent himself in an act of healing; the only reason his father would so recklessly expend energy was in an attempt to light a fire. Not that Denethor's pyromania bothered Boromir that much; he just wished that said pyromania would be directed toward the field of weapons development rather than funeral planning.**

**            Boromir did not just linger to contemplate Lord Elrond or his father, though. The beauty of the songs the elves sang had touched an underused and overly sensitive part of him. For the first time in his life, he could seriously say that he understood the distant look his brother got when he talked about the history and culture of the elves. So Boromir had sat, able to almost hear the echoes of the lovely music floating through the room. Perhaps elves weren't as bad as he thought.**

**            To test the theory, he decided to finally get up and join the dance. He doubted it would be as fun, frivolous, or bawdy as the dancing in the taverns of Minas Tirith that he so loved to frequent with the soldiers, but he still held out the hope that he might get to dance with an attractive elf wench.**

**            Needless to say, Boromir was completely unprepared for the sight that greeted him, and he was unsure whether he should laugh out loud or find the nearest trash receptacle and introduce it to partially digested elvish cooking. He settled for crossing his arms upon his chest, adopting a disgusted but amused smirk, and seeking out Mithrandir, with whom he was not close but hoped, based on his brother's friendship, might be able to explain this strange custom of the elves.**

**            Most of the elves were dancing, in what could delicately be described as a romantic fashion, in pairs that suggested absolutely no common sense at all and could only be described as wrong. Elrohir (or Elladan, he could not be certain which) and Vinegar (or whatever his name was), who even Boromir had to admit looked like a god, Erestor and Legolas, Glorfindel and Haldir, and myriad others sashayed around the room like the fairies they obviously were, often switching partners without discrimination toward sex or hair color. Presiding over it all sat Hugelda (or whatever her name was; Vinegar's twin), her face glowing with unbounded joy and her gaze shifting around the room but most often settling on the ranger Strider, who stood next to her, his eyes glazed over and worshipful. Along the wall behind her stood a number of females giggling amongst themselves as they pointed at the dancers and sipped their wine. He might have asked one of these to dance, since they all looked fairly attractive and their mannerisms were far more suggestive of young, tavern-going human females than elegant elves, but there was no way he would venture onto such an obviously cursed floor.**

**            Having found the grey wizard, he asked him "What is going on? I do not know much of the elves, but I recall no references to such couplings in the scrolls Faramir read…" He trailed off, but his eyes got wider. "Faramir admires elven culture. Does that mean that he's… queer?"**

**            Mithrandir sighed as the frightened man looked at him imploringly. "Elrond had the right idea, slipping off to bed before this started, though admittedly that was because he was so tired that he even allowed Tanglinna to help him to his room. When fully lucid, Elrond has never forgiven Thranduil's Master Archer for his role in the 'spiked Dorwinion incident' all these years ago. And Tanglinna is probably back in the library by now; he has hardly left it in the past few days, though I cannot imagine what he might be seeking."**

**            Boromir's concern grew as Mithrandir failed to answer, but the wizard then turned and met his eyes. "No, this is not normal elven behavior and no, your brother does not wish to emulate it. These elves have been infected with GPS."**

**            Vienasar, now dancing with Arwen and looking much happier, though his eyes were still shooting daggers at his sister, interrupted. "How did you find out about our Global Positioning System?"**

**            "Your what?" Arwen inquired.**

**            "Exactly what the name implies, my sweet. The Global Positioning System allows us to position the globe any way we like, so we could insert Nantaurea and shorten the journey from there to here and… Nevermind, love." And he led her away before either the Maia or the man could ask any questions.**

**            The former continued. "That explained a lot. Galadriel and Elrond will be most interested in hearing about that. No, Boromir, the GPS from which the elves suffer is Generic Promiscuity Syndrome, a disease that a group of elves sometimes contracts in the presence of someone like her," he said with a gesture toward Hugelda. "Fortunately, this is only a mild strain. Elves with the worst variation will spend all hours of the day and night engaging in what Galadriel calls 'other nocturnal activities' with whatever elf or elves happen to be in the proximity, regardless of gender, marital status, stamina, and other things that normally serve as moral and physical limits on such practices."**

**            Boromir winced and lifted his eyes to survey the room, thinking that finding the trash receptacle would probably be a very good idea at this moment, when Galadriel stepped in front of him, grabbed him by the cheeks, and kissed him on the lips. Stunned, Boromir just let his mouth hang open as she pulled back and addressed him. "My, but you look handsome tonight. It's a shame you won't live long enough to marry." She then released his face and resumed her sensuous dancing, this time with Arwen.  
 **

            Huchelda's face glinted with laughter as she watched the dancing. She called Princess Oiralimpe, one of her friends, over to her and pointed at Galadriel and Arwen, who were now kissing and stroking each other's hair as they danced. "It isn't Eowyn, but you were certainly correct about Arwen's team of choice." Oiralimpe nodded. "Not only could Vienasar not convert her, it looks as though Elladan and Elrohir have converted him," she said, gesturing at the threesome dancing in a circle. Huchelda grinned. Her brother was trying to oppose her will, but there was no way he could overcome her when she was drawing power from her friends.

            **Galadriel pulled back from Arwen, her inexplicable but undeniable lust satisfied for the moment. Glancing around in search of her next partner, she spotted a white rabbit sitting under an archway. It looked similar to the one they had followed that afternoon to the land of insanity and wonders that was Rivendell. Odd.**

            "Awww, look at the cute bunny." Huchelda followed Oiralimpe's glimpse toward the arch and winced as her friend's sigh changed to a fangirlish scream an octave-and-a-half higher. "Ohmigod! It's Galadriel/Haldir! I must tame that plot bunny!" She rushed toward it and was about halfway there when it suddenly sprang up and, as though attached to a wire, flew straight at Oiralimpe's neck. There was an unpleasantly gory moment as the rabbit savaged the girl's throat with its sharp pointy teeth, and then both fell back to the ground. Not five seconds later, both body and bunny had disappeared as though they had never been in Rivendell.

            At Oiralimpe's shriek, every head in the room had turned toward the archway, giving Vienasar the chance to reposition himself next to his beloved. If his experience with fangirls had taught him anything, it was that plot bunny attacks were not pleasant and that such creatures were rarely solitary hunters. "Come, my love. You do not wish to witness this," and they slipped away together just as the group of bunnies began to hop onto the terrace, with at least one of them for every fangirl Huchelda had brought.

            Huchelda yelled at them to not be so distracted but knew it was futile. Once the bunnies were in view, the fangirls would not be distracted from them. The scene with Oiralimpe was repeated many times, as each friend picked a bunny, moved toward it until it attacked, and then both disappeared. Pyro Faerie succumbed to 'Frodo falls out of a tree and loses his memory.' Krystal was ravaged by 'Elladan loves loquacious elf girl.' Dwelling on the possibilities for her own romance therein, Emily Claire was distracted by 'Hot female gives modern dance lessons to Fellowship in Lorien.'

            By the time all of them were gone, Huchelda's power over everyone other than Aragorn had dwindled to nothing. As the elves came to there senses and, realizing what had happened, began screaming, puking all over the floor, tearing their hair, and announcing their intentions to burn their clothes and take scalding baths _alone_ to cleanse the evil, Huchelda grabbed Aragorn's arm and quietly led him off into the trees.

_(Now wasn't that mean of me. I had intended to put the bridge scene foreshadowed at the beginning in this chapter, but the plot bunnies were really nibbling -like sharks circling round a kill as much as anything else- and I figured that, having hit the ninth page, it really was time to stop for the moment.)_

Thanks to my wonderful and lovely reviewers.

**Makoto-47**: I'm glad you enjoyed it, though I'm thinking I should recommend you to a good psychiatrist if my deliberately hideous poetry inspired you.

**Dragon-of-the-north**: If only it were that simple :-) If Alagaith would enlighten us, Glorfindel would appreciate it (or maybe puke some more, depending). I just figured I would deliberately echo Crowbait's method of creating elf names from the prologue and see if anyone noticed. Remember that other bottle of Dorwinion- it will be back. Brethil may well be in Rivendell, but he certainly does not wish to have anymore attention drawn to him. And your analysis and song of Vienasar's marriage was very amusing, if not quite what I intended.

**TreeHugger**: Yes, Tanglinna. Well, to shrink your head a bit, you're barely mentioned in this chapter, though I suspect you, if no one else, already know what you're researching and planning, at which point you will take center stage, much to the chagrin of your authoress. I think the description of Aragorn is the voice of the narrator (Theodosia) coming through, rather than Legolas thoughts. Thanks for your kind comments and appreciation of my hideously silly poetry.

**Lady LeBeau**: They won't learn any time soon, that's for sure. This story has a history of causing readers to get funny looks from their families; I'm sorry I've made you join that list.

_Thanks to **Pyro**** Faerie** for giving me some advice on Galadriel's visions. I expanded her vision of Pippin specifically for **Lady LeBeau** and you. Boromir's mispronunciations of the twin's names are the nicknames bestowed on them by **Dragon-of-the-north**. The canonical characters and settings belong to Tolkien; Huchelda, Vienasar, Princess Oiralimpe, and all the crazy and random beyond the realm of common sense happenings belong to me. The method of the plot bunny attack is, of course, taken from **Monte Python and the Holy Grail**. A big thank you goes to **Pyro**** Faerie**, **Lady LeBeau**, and **Makoto-47**, who graciously agreed to make cameos as fangirls in this chapter. I hope my utilization of you did not bring offense. Since this story had already become a way to vent satirize existing fangirl practices, I figured I might as well complain about the 'bring your friends' approach to Mary Sues and the insidious GPS.  Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and please review._


	8. Ch VII: And There Was Much Rejoicing Or ...

To the Halls of Mandos in a Backpack

Chapter VII: And There Was Much Rejoicing… Or Not

(PA/N: We finally did it; we're at the bridge! I'm so excited! And you will not believe how much time I spent on the lovely romantic scene that occurs thereafter. You'll love it! -Theodosia King)

(OA/N: Stupid bitch hogging the computer. I'm getting angry and that's not pretty. I need a good movie- Crowbait)

Love is in the Air, Chapter 7- Romance at the Bridge

            Huchelda paused. She thought she had heard Arwen's voice in the distance. In the direction she and Aragorn were headed. That was not good… no, it was impossible. She must have been mistaken. Vienasar had promised to keep Arwen out of the way. The sound she heard was probably a shriek of either happiness or disgust coming from one of the bedrooms, where he was presumably shagging the living daylights out of her. She shuddered, not wanting that particular mental image, and, squeezing Aragorn's hand more tightly, continued toward the bridge.

            **Aragorn could hardly believe his luck. Here he was, holding hands with the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, and she was leading him to that romantic bridge. He knew he was not worthy of her, since she could best him in every martial skill he used, but she didn't seem to mind. It was becoming apparent, even to his dense male mind, that she yearned for him with a lust that exceeded even the burning which he had felt for her since he first saw her. He was in love, and he reveled in the feeling of weightless, meaningless, thoughtless bliss that completely filled his brain.**

**            He suddenly spotted a lovely bunch of coconuts sitting by the path. Suddenly feeling the need to impress this beautiful elf with his knowledge, he mentioned another use for coconuts that the pyromaniac Istar whose name he could not remember had taught the Dunedain. "You know, if you slice a coconut open and clap the halves together, it sounds like a horse's hooves. Very handy for scaring off bands of orcs that us rangers would rather not fight during our long, tiring tours of duty guarding an unappreciative north."**

**            Huchelda turned to him with a puzzled expression on her face. "Coconuts?" He gestured at the bunch, a silly grin spreading across his face as he realized that he did know something she did not. Maybe he was worthy of her after all!**

**            "Coconuts?" She repeated. "How did some coconuts get to Rivendell?" Aragorn looked thoughtful for a minute, then suggested "Perhaps they were carried by migrating swallows?"**

            "Oh… my… god…" Why on earth was her love channeling Monte Python? First the plot bunnies with sharp, pointy teeth, and then the coconut and swallow routine? What next? Instead of just happily walking to the bridge, she was now filled with concerns about… "Oh, shit." Now she knew. The only uncertainty in her mind was whether the bridge would be guarded by a sword-wielding Erestor (who couldn't be that good therewith if her brother had been an even match for him) or an old dwarf (Gróin, perhaps?) asking uncomfortable questions. Either way, she didn't want to find out.

Luckily for her (and for any readers unfamiliar with _Monte Python and the Holy Grail_), she managed to locate the source of the problem. Turning her face to the sky, she screamed "Crowbait! Turn off the damn DVD while I'm writing!" Turning to the woods around her, she screamed again "I banish Tim the Enchanter and all spirits of Python that have inhabited this world!" There was a rumble, presumably Tim setting off one more explosion before he left, a few pops, and then all was silent again. She turned to Aragorn, took both his hands and, meeting his puzzled eyes, commanded "You will remember none of this."

            **And he didn't.**

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            **Tanglinna**** set down the quill. It had taken literally all day, but he had found the reference he was looking for. And in no less than four sources, he smiled to himself. Quite a feat for someone who had not spent that much of his life reading (though, in fairness, he would have spent less time at the archery range if Thranduil had possessed a library as interesting as Lord Elrond's). He looked over his notes one more time and complimented himself. It would not take long to convince tomorrow's council of what he already knew was true.**

**            He was interrupted by substantial amounts of screaming from the general direction of the Hall of Fire. Puzzled, he listened, but the pattern sounded like almost every elf in Imladris pointing to almost every other elf and repeating "You… me… Aaaahhhh!" His eyebrow went up a notch when Glorfindel came tearing into the library, his speed and facial expression seeming to indicate that he was chased by the wife of a Balrog in possession of one of the Nine Rings of Men with some of Ungoliant's spawn in tow. He smirked at the golden-haired elf who had been unable to do much about the blue dye in his skin. "I take it the dance is over?"**

**            Glorfindel jumped as though the rest of the Balrog Women's Group had entered the room to join their friend in an afternoon of gossip and shopping. Upon seeing that it was only a concerned-looking Tanglinna, he stopped, but none of the tension left his frame. "What happened?" Tanglinna asked, all trace of mirth having left him.**

**            "Haldir… Erestor… Elrohir… me… it's too horrible to speak of!" Tanglinna paused, unsure what he should do, but Glorfindel manage to regain his composure. "I think at this moment I hate Huchelda more than I do the twins combined."**

**            "Well, tomorrow she will get some of what's coming to her. I've found her family's dark secret and soon all the council will know."**

**            Glorfindel looked at him quizzically, but the sound of more screaming further away distracted them. "That sounds like the enemy in question. Shall we go pursue her?" Glorfindel nodded, a look of grim determination on his face. Tanglinna swiftly pocketed his notes and the two headed off toward the woods.**

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Vienasar just starred at the beautiful picture before him. The most gorgeous face and body he had ever seen (with the possible exception of his sister) stood, illuminated from behind by the stars and the soft light issuing from the buildings of Rivendell. The bliss of the moment so overwhelmed him that he forgot that the dialogue would only work if she opened it. "Do you remember when we first met?"

            Arwen bobbed her head, wearing a silly grin more akin to that of a vapid schoolgirl than an ethereal elf princess. "Yup. You were fighting Erestor, and I couldn't help but dream about, like, your butt, and then you spoke in that sweet voice of yours, and made that hilarious joke, and I just couldn't stand it. Like, I wanted to eat you up with a spoon. I thought I had strayed into a dream."

            Now realizing his mistake, Vienasar tried to correct the exchange. "I thought _I_ had strayed into a dream."

            "Long days have passed. You did not have the scars from obscene pranks that you bear now." Arwen took a breath, but before she could continue another voice broke the silence. "I know you want me," Huchelda cooed, "but we must formally pledge our love first, you naughty boy."

            Following Arwen's eyes, Vienasar turned around to see his sister and Aragorn approaching. What was she doing here? He suddenly got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Tomorrow was the council, and both he and his sister had promised to keep their lovers occupied but neither had specified where. This was what he considered less than good.

            And there was nothing he could do about it. Knowing his sister, she would explode, they would have a big argument during which neither of them would admit that each had failed to inform the other about the intended destination, and the moment would be ruined. There was only one other thing he could attempt. He quickly stepped toward Arwen, moving off the center of the bridge. He half-hoped that she would not back up but instead come into his arms. With a somewhat frightened expression on her face, though, she did step back.

            Huchelda must have just noticed that the bridge was occupied, because behind him Vienasar heard the sharp intake of breath that indicated that a long, loud tirade was about to commence. He decided to cut her off the only way he knew how. As everyone knows, elven siblings can communicate telepathically and, as much as he hated the dirty feeling he got being inside her head, it was his only option.

            _Shut up and listen to me. We both screwed up by not coordinating our schedules better, but you need to keep quiet and not ruin the moment by yelling at me. Each of us must do the bridge routine tonight if we hope to get laid before the council opens, so just take up position on that side of the bridge and pretend that we aren't here._

            Huchelda was appalled. How dare he interrupt her lovely sojourn on the bridge? How dare he refuse to withdraw from the incomparable majesty of her presence? How dare he intrude on her pure, innocent mind with that filthy telepathic ability they had? How dare he presume to tell her what to do in this uncomfortable situation of his making? And how dare he have the audacity to believe that he is correct? Even if he is.

            She sighed. She hated that he was right. That was the only way for them to salvage the situation. She started to give Aragorn the command to stand with his back to Vienasar, thus at least establishing proper symmetry, but then changed her mind. There was no way she would be able to concentrate on Aragorn's lovely features if she had to also watch her brother gushing over Arwen.

            Getting as close to her brother as she thought safe, she turned to face her beloved, took a deep breath, allowing her chest to heave and further expose her cleavage to her very attentive man, and pulled out the jewel she had made while her brother was unconscious. Just as Huchelda was built to make Arwen look like a bag lady, so was the Settingsun constructed to make the Evenstar look cheap.

            Its chain was composed of golden orbs and golden birds in flight alternating along a copper wire (though she had only had time to detail a couple of the birds). The body of it was composed of waving strips of mostly platinum (she had tried using an unfamiliar but beautiful silver metal that she saw, but she got ugly blisters on her beautifully-crafted hands when she touched it), though there was some gold intertwined. To the casual observer, the pattern might appear haphazard, but upon closer inspection it became an intricate 'H' (for Huchelda) in a style that vaguely resembled Medieval illuminated manuscripts. Scattered throughout this palm-sized pendant were various gems and semi-precious stones, all dominated by the large, blue-tinted diamond (to match his light blue eyes) in the center, a diamond which she had imbued with magic to shine with an inner glow. She hoped that illusion would deceive him into thinking that the Settingsun, like the Evenstar, was infused in some obscure and unexplained way with her life force and would thus attract him even more.

            As he stared (though whether it was her breasts or the Settingsun which held his attention she could not tell), she asked him "Do you remember when we first met?" He looked into her face, and she saw a spark of longing in his eyes that she had not dictated as he answered "I thought I had strayed into a dream."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            **In the bushes facing the bridge, Tanglinna decided that he must have strayed into a nightmare. Isildur's heir and Elrond's daughter were trapped in the clutches of the invaders with little hope of escape. Both he and Glorfindel knew that it would be futile to attempt to physically kill the twins and the fact that both of them, as well as Aragorn, stood between the revenge-minded elves and Arwen precluded any action beyond observation. And of course, there was the problem of Tanglinna's dinner no longer sitting comfortably with him as he watched the sappy dialogues play out.**

**            The twins must have coordinated their efforts, because at almost the same moment both Arwen and Huchelda pulled something off of their necks and held it forth, the former looking nauseous and the latter anticipatory.**

**            Without warning, the twins who one would actually expect to reside in Rivendell burst out of the undergrowth on the other side of the bridge, yelling at Aragorn not to take it. He twitched slightly but, apparently unable to resist Huchelda's spell, made no move to drop his outstretched hand.**

**            Next to Tanglinna, however, Glorfindel did make a move. He might not be able to kill the amorous twins, but he could certainly harm the pranksters. Grabbing a fairly heavy fist-sized rock, he threw at Elrohir with an odd side-armed delivery. Unfortunately, the timing of his release was just a bit off and, instead of flying in a straight line, the stone cut through the air at a slight angle until it made the acquaintance of Huchelda's shoulder with a thud. The shock caused her arm to jerk upwards, sending whatever was in her hand arcing through the air. Tanglinna watched it for a moment. Rationality demanded that it was far too huge to be a piece of jewelry, and yet the way it seemed to sparkle and glow as it sailed combined with the fact that Huchelda had been wearing it around her neck argued otherwise. Amazingly, the gaudy and tasteless item did not shatter upon impact, but instead landed on a soft bed of moss, from which Tanglinna picked it up with a malicious grin. One more bit of evidence for tomorrow.**

**            On the bridge, Huchelda was singularly failing to remain upright, and her efforts to keep from falling were not only further upsetting her own balance but disrupting that of her brother as well. Finally her efforts could avail her no longer and she tumbled into the stream. As she did so, Aragorn shook his head, as though waking up, and fixed Arwen with a piercing and loving gaze. She stepped forward, looking as though she might help Vienasar, whose limbs were now flailing as well, but instead she merely shoved him off the bridge.**

**            As Aragorn took her in his arms, she cast the pendant around his neck. "You cannot give me this," he said unconvincingly, but she calmly responded "It is mine to give to whom I will, like my heart." She then sealed their pact with a kiss, as her brothers whooped with joy and the two opposite them applauded enthusiastically.**

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            **Shortly before dawn, Arwen stirred with a moan. Her head was still pounding from where it had been hit. Since the sun had gone down, she had been to the blackest abyss of despair, the highest peak of joy, and now she was back in the pit, and all her carefully laid schemes were now dashed. The only consolations she had were that Aragorn still loved her as she loved him and that he was now safe from their mind intrusion as she was.**

**            Ever since the twins had used their Global Positioning System, as she now knew it was called, to turn the four steps from her bedroll to the bush that doubled as a bathroom into the distance from said bedroll to a balcony overlooking Imladris, she had been aware of how dangerous they were. Because of the obscure and unexplained way that her life was tied to the Evenstar, it provided complete protection for her thoughts against all but her family and was far more effective than any amulet made to serve a similar task, such as the one Gandalf had helped make for her dad. **

**            Out of fear that these twins might have worse tricks up their sleeves, she had taken it upon herself to convince Vienasar that she had fallen for him without any manipulation on his part, primarily to keep him from targeting other, more vulnerable folk (like her father). She had thus managed to allow Erestor to put Vienasar out of commission and help her brother embarrass him thoroughly. The worst part, though, had been earlier that night, when she had to pretend to dance with everyone so that the twins would not find out about her immunity to their machinations. Going through the motions with Vienasar on the bridge had been even worse; as she spent time in his presence, she could feel herself becoming stupider by the minute. Glorfindel's timely intervention had saved her from having to attempt to physically defeat both twins to get to her truly beloved.**

**            Now Aragorn would have similar protection but thankfully, because the light of the Evenstar does not wax and wane, her mind was still securely warded. Things were still not right in Imladris, but at least she and her future husband were safe for the time being. At least she had thought so.**

**            Even taking into consideration the fact that the presence of the offensive twins had made Elrond far less opposed to a marriage between his daughter and his foster son, Arwen had no desire to risk his ire by staying overnight with Aragorn, so after a brief but passionate snogfest each had adjourned to his/her own bedchamber.**

**            There, her particularly pleasant dreams were interrupted by a very angry and still apparently wet individual pulling the sheets off her and forcibly flipping her onto her back. Giving silent thanks to the Valar that her grandmother had the foresight to teach her how to physically resist amorous advances, Arwen had gone straight for the proverbial jugular, delivering a kick to Vienasar's namesake that would probably put him out of commission at least for a couple days.**

**            Arwen hoped that Vienasar's loud curse combined with her own scream would bring help, but instead Vienasar had stood up, stared at her as though trying to manipulate her thoughts and then, having failed, he grabbed her around the waist, flung her over his shoulder and three steps later set her down in one of the cells. Damn that GPS!**

**            The cell was populated only by a chamberpot, and both the exterior window and door window had bars in them to prevent escape. Vienasar grabbed her and held her against the wall. "Listen, bitch, I _will_ shag the most beautiful elf in Imladris before I leave, and you _will_ consent willingly, because you _will_ stay here until you do."**

**            Arwen scowled defiantly at him. "You cannot keep me here. You do not have the keys."**

**            "I don't need them." Setting a hand on the wall, he continued, "I seal this cell so that none canonical may enter." The walls of the cell began to glow slightly and then faded. "Oh, and I _do_ have the key. Your father was so trashed at dinner he failed to notice when I took it."**

**            As a wave of despair and fear washed over her, he had hit her hard in the back of the head, sending her into the unconsciousness from which she had only lately returned.**

(A/N: Nothing canonical is mine. I'm sure you know that by now. I forgot to mention in the last chapter that dyeing Glorfindel blue is yet another tribute/allusion to **TreeHugger**'s _Elrond's Most Forgettable Birthday_. **Dragon-of-the-north** suggested the continuation of the _Monte Python_ allusions, so blame her, not me. The line between Middle-earth and the world of TK and Crowbait is quite obviously fading.

**TreeHugger**: Yes, there are too many bunnies running around, though now at least they've fallen into a pattern I know what to do with. Your review was really fun to read and made my day. Tell your silver-haired friend to stay tuned; his time in the spotlight should come next chapter.

**Erestor**: Thanks for your reviews. It's great to get compliments from an author as talented as you. And yes, for whatever reason, the twins have mostly avoided targeting your namesake.

**makoto-47**: I think we've seen all we're going to of the plot bunnies. They come, they bite the fangirls, and, as often as not, they cannot be tamed to the point where the resultant fic is publishable.

**Dragon-of-the-north**: If I'm ever really bored, I may take your suggestion and do an outtake version with the bridge scene- an ensemble songfic. I think Legolas' joke was on par with Elrohir's the chapter prior, turnabout being fairplay.

Hope to see you next episode for the Council!


	9. Ch VIII: The Council of Insanity

Author's Notes: The canonical characters and setting belong to Tolkien, Tanglinna belongs to **TreeHugger** (or she belongs to him, one of the two).  
According to WETA and the Decipher LotR card game, Aegnor is the real name of the Elf Otherwise Known As Figwit.  
Ruscalarus is another deliberate butchering of Quenya, intended to translate as 'copper fox.'  
Thanks to **Lady LeBeau**, who suggested the recycling of a line from _Wings_ near the end of the chapter.  
Thanks to **TreeHugger** and **Dragon-of-the-north** for giving this a quick read through. The latter mentioned that I should probably include the disclaimer that I am deliberately not following the definition of elven marriage laid out in the essay "Laws and Customs of the Eldar," instead asserting that elven marriages were ceremonially sworn and sealed as alluded to in _Wings_.  
Speaking of Tree and Dragon, the paragraph wherein Tanglinna mentions his sources is deliberately boring in a silly way, primarily because I enjoy spouting academic-sounding gibberish for fun. Chapter 2 of their _On Rare Occasions_ and Dragon's review of the last chapter inspired it.  
Oh, and let me say for the record that I am _not_ a fan of quick edit and all the new formatting stuff they've done.  
Review Responses:  
**makoto-47**: Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy this.  
**Lady LeBeau**: Gotta love the coconuts. And yes, I do think that Preppy!Arwen tends to be the result of fangirl or fanboy presence, as was the case here. I'm glad you're thinking of 'Tanglinna to the rescue.' You're conveniently forgetting another uncanonical addition I made…  
**Dragon-of-the-north**: I'm not sure how to respond to that review except to say that I loved reading it.  
**TreeHugger**: As with Dragon, I was laughing out loud as I read your review, though I'm not sure how to respond to you either, except to tell you that we are now moving on to Scene 24, which is a very nice scene with some lovely acting… Oh, and Tanglinna, I'm sure _anyone_ would get a stomach ache watching those OCs fawn over Arwen and Aragorn.  
**Ceana**: Thanks and I'm glad you enjoyed it.

To the Halls of Mandos in a Backpack  
Chapter VIII: The Council of Insanity

(PA/N: So… sad… Aragorn… lost forever… -straightens up and wipes away her tears- Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to figure out why our chapters never get posted right and to read through this lament without crying and… Crowbait! Turn off the stupid -sob- DVD!)

(OA/N: Sheesh! Stupid bitch never wants a movie on unless it's some mushy crap that induces puking. Oh, and blame her for the title, not me.)

Love is in the Air, Chapter 8- Temporary Suicide should be an Option on Days like this

**"Friends, dwarves, countrymen, lend me your pointed ears," Elrond intoned solemnly, before adding, in a significantly lighter tone, "but keep those less well-endowed." The somber voice was back before Gimli was even aware that he had been insulted. "We have come to bury the Ring in the fires of ****Mt.****Doom****, not to praise it."**

**Suddenly Gandalf was tugging on the Lord of Imladris' sleeve while Frodo, sitting next to the wizard, continued to stare blankly at the podium on which the Ring sat. Speaking so quietly that only one with the ears of a fox could have heard him, Gandalf whispered "Um, Elrond, you weren't supposed to tell them what we have already decided upon until _after_ they'd heard the evidence." Elrond paled slightly and said "Oops," as Gimli sniggered to himself at the elf's embarrassment. Despite having a full night's sleep for the first time in at least a week, Elrond still looked like he was a few cells short of a dungeon, which might be the reason he had effectively told all these people he had summoned to a council that their input was not needed. **

**Not that Gimli minded their proposed solution. The two things that every dwarf loves more than anything else are jewelry and destruction, the latter preferably of goblins or other such evil creatures. Normally, this would have drawn him to lay claim to the gold band the Halfling had brought, but since said Halfling had been chased thither and yon by the Nine, he figured Gandalf was correct in saying that this was the One Ring, and since the One Ring could probably be considered an evil entity in its own right, he was all in favor of destroying it.**

**While Elrond and Gandalf consulted about what to do next, Gimli surveyed the others sitting around the semicircle. Elves easily constituted a majority of the assembly, with the locals beginning at the flank, the Mirkwood contingent next to them, and then the elves from other locations. This arrangement put the Prince of Mirkwood next to Elladan and Elrohir, whose seats next to their father had been taken by Glorfindel and Erestor because Galadriel demanded that they be punished for the way their pranking had scarred 'poor Gimli.' Nevermind that Gimli had already concluded that, based on the way Galadriel was insisting that he be treated like a prince, falling into that perfume was the best thing that had ever happened to him. What did worry Gimli was that the warring pranksters were now sitting together. Arwen was the only elf conspicuously absent. Galadriel, he had happily observed upon his arrival, had taken the chair next to his and had already identified all the elves present for his benefit. Not that he had heard a word she said, being far more entranced by the parts of her that were at or near his eye level.**

**On his other side were the rest of the dwarves, followed by Bilbo, Aragorn, Boromir, the old men of Dale, and finally Huchelda and Vienasar, the former looking ragged and sick, as though she had not cleaned up since her rumored fall into the stream the previous night, and the latter looking smug but with anger simmering beneath his seemingly calm features. Gimli wondered if it was a deliberate slight that those two were seated with the humans instead of the elves.**

Had she been less despondent, Huchelda might have noticed that she and her brother had not been seated with the other firstborn. Unfortunately, having combined the depression of losing all opportunity to obtain her heart's desire with the chill that accompanied a night swim in a cold mountain stream, the elf felt human and looked less than human. She could no longer get into Aragorn's mind and, she had to grudgingly admit, he was far sexier when he was self-assured than when he was fawning over her. Seeing him like that only increased her longing and sense of loss.

Lost in her own sorrow, she barely listened as Elrond told the history of the rings and the Last Alliance, Bilbo related the discovery of the Ring, Gloin spoke of messengers from Sauron visiting yadda yadda yadda.

-

**As Gandalf paused for a breath while giving an account of his pursuit of the Nazgul, Merry braced himself. It was coming, coming, _there_. With a sigh, Pippin shifted positions, this time going from sitting cross-legged to kneeling with his rear resting on his ankles. Merry smiled to himself. For over two hours, without fail, the younger Hobbit had changed position every three minutes and, for over two hours, Merry had alternated between being annoyed by his friend's fidgetiness and amused by its regularity.**

**From their spots behind the low wall topped with potted plants, in front of which sat The Perverted Witch and The Mattress Lover, the two Hobbits had observed the morning's proceedings. Pippin was extremely bored but, after having shouted at Gandalf over being denied a seat in the council, was too proud to admit that Merry's suggestion (that they raid the storerooms while everyone else was conferring) was superior.**

**Merry actually found the events being spoken of somewhat interesting. He wasn't carefully noting Elrond's every word for the historical record, as Sam was from his spot in a bush behind the Rivendell elves, but, as he had an interest in his own family history, he figured there were many worse ways for him to spend a morning.**

**His tale now completed, Gandalf sat down. Pippin whispered in Merry's ear "I hope they're going to start debating now. I want to pick up some good elvish curses and insults to use back home." Merry grinned. The reason Pippin had wanted so much to come to the council was that Elladan had told the Hobbits that the debate over what to do about the Ring would probably be quite contentious and, given Elrond's ongoing weariness, might even include some expletives. Though Merry was not as visibly enthusiastic as Pippin, he too was looking forward to being able to call Fatty Bolger a 'stupid ass' in a language other than Westron.**

**Both were thus somewhat disappointed when Elrond wearily said, "And now, for a presentation regarding our more," he glanced toward those sitting in front of the Hobbits, "immediate crisis, Tanglinna of Mirkwood." No one looked particularly enthusiastic, but all the elves in particular regarded this silver-haired elf coldly, leaving the Hobbits to wonder what he had done to irritate every other member of his race present.**

Vienasar wondered what the strange silver-haired elf had to say about him and his sister. It couldn't be as boring as all the stuff everyone else had related. Honestly, if he really cared about all that, he would have paid attention to the boring parts of the books. With a groan, he slouched even lower in his chair. He had thought that the council would be less than ten minutes of debate, followed by the choosing of the Fellowship (of which he and Huchelda would be a part). He had really wanted to spend the rest of the morning trying to figure out ways to shag Arwen that wouldn't involve him forcing her, since that wouldn't be anywhere near as much fun as consensual pleasure. Next to him, his sister muttered "Who is this Tanglinna? He isn't canonical."

She must have been a bit louder than she intended, because Tanglinna walked over, leaned close so only the two of them could hear, and said "So? Neither are you." Vienasar paled as Tanglinna turned around. He had been assuming that he and Huchelda were the only characters around who weren't in the books. He looked around, worried that this Tanglinna might have already liberated Arwen. As soon as there was another change of speaker, he would slip out to change the wards to something more restrictive.

"Elves and gentlemen of the council, Rivendell is faced with a threat that, while not intimately tied to the Ring, could have a profound effect on its disposition. This council has been infiltrated by the worst sort of NOLDOR!" He punctuated this exclamation once again explicitly singling out the twins with a gesture. There was an instant of silence, during which Tanglinna's face fell, going from an appearance of triumph to one similar to that of a comedian who had just told what he thought was his best joke and gotten no audience reaction. Then several of the elves, led by Galadriel and Elrond's twins, began laughing uproariously, while the dwarves and most of the men continued to look at Tanglinna blankly.

Over the noise, Legolas smirked at his fellow Mirkwood elf. "I do believe that we're _surrounded_ by the worst sort of Noldor." Tanglinna was muttering what sounded like "Gah! That's not what I meant," as the cacophony crescendoed again. As the din died down, Erestor finally caught his breath enough to comment "They're Noldor. So what?" Finally having an individual target, Tanglinna whirled and advanced on Elrond's advisor, who calmly met Tanglinna's piercing gaze. "These are no mindless rabble of Noldor. These are Feanorians! Their pride is thick and their audacity broad."

**The elves continued to look skeptical and slightly contemptuous, but Aragorn nodded thoughtfully and, having not been alive for the various incidents that had gotten Tanglinna removed from the Yule card lists of most of the assembled elves, stood to defend Mirkwood's archer. "It's possible. Consider that the female was foolishly set on obtaining my love, something that she considers hers but to which another's claim is far greater, and she had no qualms about creating havoc and harming others in her attempt to get it. Not to mention," he added with a glance at his future grandmother-in-law, "she has very little respect for an individual's mental autonomy."**

Despite the nature (and truth, Vienasar noted) of this attack, Huchelda in her depressed state made no move to defend herself, and he certainly had no intention of doing so. In addition to the fact that an objection would merely delay his opportunity to go see Arwen again (and prevent Tanglinna from rescuing her), he also took great pleasure in seeing Huchelda's object of affection attack her so. For all her skepticism, it still seemed almost certain that he would soon get Arwen while she now had no chance with Aragorn.

Tanglinna smiled at the ranger, who had successfully caught everyone's attention, and continued. "Furthermore, she is totally obsessed with excessively gaudy jewelry. Consider this, which she attempted to give to Aragorn last night," he said, drawing forth a pendant so large, shiny, and tasteless that the Ringwraiths would probably turn and flee from the sight of it. "Based on the unaccounted-for disappearance of materials from Rivendell's smithy that match those present in this, I believe it likely that she crafted this while here, presumably taking advantage of a workshop superior to that of her supposed home. She thus abused Lord Elrond's hospitality and revealed the extent of her desire for glowing gems."

**Elrond, with tiredness and interest warring in his features, was the first to ask the obvious question. "I'll readily admit that her behavior is reminiscent of a branch of the family that I would just as soon forget." He shuddered, remembering that it had been rumored that Feanor's sons partook in various relationships of the same nature as the one which Huchelda had tried to force him and Gandalf into. "But I was under the impression that the line of Feanor was long extinct."**

"You are correct, Lord Elrond, as far as the _legitimate_ line is concerned. However, not all descendants need have been conceived in sworn and sealed marriage."

"I can believe that these are bastards, but where is your proof?"

"The male claimed to have served under Maedhros at Dagor Bragollach, killing a Balrog before himself dying. He refused to say anything of either his return to Arda or his parentage, which made me wonder. I began scouring Elrond's library to see if there were any references to a bastard fathered by Maedhros."

"Thranduil's Master Archer spending time in the library?" Legolas interrupted. "Are you sure they haven't corrupted _your_ mind as well?" While everyone laughed, Vienasar fought with himself. On the one hand, he could refute everything Tanglinna said by simply stating that he was lying about being alive in the First Age. On the other hand, he absolutely hated admitting that he was wrong and there was no guarantee that they would believe him anyway. As Tanglinna would have predicted, his pride carried the field and he stayed silent.

**Tanglinna**** continued, hoping to win some supporters by demonstrating more knowledge of Elrond's library than most of Rivendell's residents. "I found four mentions of Maedhros' bastard. _The Chronicle of the Children of Feanor_, which as you all know is one of the accounts more sympathetic to those… villains, asserts that Maedhros fathered a daughter on one of servants, with both mother and daughter being killed by orcs shortly after the child was born. _Customs of the Noldor_, which was of course written in Menegroth and edited after the fall thereof and thus has the cor…" He caught himself before saying 'correct,' knowing how many Noldor were present and would take serious offense at that assertion, "a more critical view of the Feanorians, says that the bastard girl was born to the sister of Ruscalarus, an officer under Maedhros who, fearing that the Silmaril-obsessed Lord would have his own daughter killed if she were found, took her and raised her alongside his own children. _Of the Days of Sorrow_, written in Mithlond in the early years of the Second Age, says that Maedhros had a bastard of unspecified gender who was taken by orcs and presumably killed or corrupted. Lastly, Fragment XVI of the Himring _Lay of Feanor_ says that Ruscalarus raised fraternal twins born to his sister following her forbidden but passionate romance with Maedhros. Furthermore, the name of Ruscalarus does not appear anywhere in the _Official Casualty Rosters_ for the First Age, making it possible that he survived and migrated to unknown territories in the east. What I suggest is that Ruscalarus changed his name to Ralas and that his supposed children are actually the twin children of Maedhros."**

A brief instant of silence met this proclamation and then everyone started talking at once. Finally Gandalf's voice emerged from the chaos. "Why should we believe _The Lay of Feanor_ over the sources that say it was a girl? Considering how rarely _The Chronicle_ agrees with _Customs of the Noldor_, there would have to be compelling evidence to say that both are wrong."

Tanglinna responded "I can offer you no such compelling evidence, _but_ I think it likely that the birth of an heir to Maedhros would be kept a very close secret, while that of a daughter might not be as closely guarded. If it became known that there was a daughter and she had died, it would both keep suspicious people from digging any deeper and protect the boy from being discovered."

Gandalf nodded in response and Vienasar began to zone out as Tanglinna answered more questions, most of them dealing with the sources more than the conclusions.

**Tanglinna's**** gladness that people were believing and paying attention to him descended into annoyance as the questions about his research kept coming. Finally, the Hobbit Frodo, whose rumbling stomach seemed to have brought him back from his Ring-induced stupor, asked the question Tanglinna had been hoping for. "So what does this have to with the Ring? As interesting as conducting elvish source criticism is, I would much rather settle the matter at hand and move on to second breakfast."**

**Choosing to ignore the latter half of those remarks, Tanglinna answered "My fear is that, because they are Feanorian and the Ring is a magically powerful piece of jewelry, they might try to take it for themselves."**

Vienasar scoffed. For all Tanglinna's worries, he was never even tempted to take the Ring. He remembered that those who did take it or consider taking it became unfortunately obsessed with it, and that obsession led them to forsake their normally good dispositions and do cruel or evil things for its sake. No, he would never allow himself to succumb to such an obsession…

However, fearing that any further delay would keep him from getting to Arwen as soon as possible, he decided to forestall any further discussion of Tanglinna's assertion by standing up. "Fear not, Mister Tanglinna, I have no desire to take the Ring."

**Gimli turned, surprised that the bastard was finally responding to Tanglinna's allegations, but as soon as he had spoken, Vienasar strode out of the council at a fast pace. Gimli snickered, recognizing the pace of his walk as the one that tall folk used when they couldn't get to the indoor plumbing fast enough.**

**As Tanglinna headed back to his seat, Gimli reflected on what had been a thoroughly dull morning. Elvish history, he had found, had nothing on a good retelling of one of the epic battles between dwarves and goblins and the only thing interesting about Galadriel's commentary on the council was that she was whispering it in his ear. He had spent much of the time daydreaming visions of how Galadriel kept herself occupied during this long separation from her husband and wondering if he could perhaps help her make the time pass more swiftly.**

Vienasar's rash declaration and sudden exit startled Huchelda. Why should they rule out the possibility of claiming the Ring, given that it might help them gain the attention of their respective loves? She was so despondent that she would have given almost anything for a hug from any one of these at least somewhat attractive characters. As Tanglinna sat down, she looked more closely at Legolas sitting next to him and decided that perhaps his legions of fangirls _did_ have a point. And being canonically unattached, he might be more receptive to her advances.

Before she could contemplate how to gain his trust, Arwen came bursting into the midst of the council, looking as pissed as… actually, Huchelda could not complete that statement. She had never seen anyone looking remotely as mad as the object of her brother's desire did at that moment. It was quite frightening.

She strode across, grabbed Aragorn's arm, and pulled him to his feet. He looked a bit scared himself, but without a word she pulled him into a fierce hug. As the envious Huchelda watched the couple, she noticed the squirrel hopping off Arwen's shoulder and heading back to Legolas. Elladan and Elrohir got up to hug their sister as well and asked her what had happened. "That (censored!)"

**Elrond winced upon hearing his daughter, of all people, utter an expletive so foul that even _he_ had never spoken or heard it spoken aloud.**

**Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other and grinned, their respect for their sister having increased tenfold.**

**Aragorn made a mental note to never piss off his future wife.**

**Tanglinna raised an eyebrow. Though a respected curse artist, he had never learned the really high end Quenya expletives, but he had the feeling that he would never hear one better.**

**Frodo's stomach rumbled.**

**Galadriel was unsure whether to be disappointed at her granddaughter's potty mouth or thrilled at this sudden turn of events. She had once unwisely used that word during an invective against the Valar and they had prohibited her from returning to the West until another dared utter it aloud. Now that her granddaughter had done so, she could cross one more thing off the list of restrictions placed on her return.**

**Legolas idly translated it into Sindarin, grimacing as he caught its full implications and realized that his father had once called Tanglinna almost the same thing.**

**Glorfindel wondered if the best way to defeat Sauron might not just be to let Arwen curse at him.**

**Bilbo began to contemplate how to work that word into another song about Vienasar.**

**Gandalf sighed, realizing that he could have made his entire speech in Black Speech and no one would have cared as long as Arwen had spoken before him.**

**Boromir wondered why everyone looked so shocked that the lovely Arwen had spoken in Elvish.**

**Erestor groaned, realizing that Arwen's interjection meant that he lost the bottle of wine he had bet on Elrond being the first one to curse at the council. Haldir, having supported the field, could party well tonight.**

**Sam fought the urge to run up and cover Frodo's virgin ears.**

**Gimli continued to stare at Galadriel.**

**Merry threw a hand over Pippin's mouth, just in time to prevent his cry of exultation at hearing such a wondrous expletive from giving away their position.**

Huchelda rolled her eyes at Arwen's coarse language but concluded that, if she was indeed referring to Vienasar, the description was apt. Taking a deep breath, Arwen continued. "That scum took me from my bed, threw me in one of Father's cells, and put some spell on it that kept everyone from entering, promising that I would not leave until I submitted to his filthy advances. I was afraid that I was doomed. Just a few minutes ago, my salvation arrived in the form of a squirrel. Nutsy crawled through the window and managed, with his teeth and claws, to unlock the door."

Throwing a grateful glance at Legolas, Arwen continued by addressing her grandmother. "You gave me this," she said, drawing a knife from her belt, "saying that it would protect me against all unwanted advances." She turned to look at Huchelda. "I swear that, should he so much as look at me funny, be he invincible or no, the Dagger of the Noldorin will make him sing soprano. Tell him that." Frightened by the menace exuding from Arwen, Huchelda fled to find her brother.

**As Arwen gestured for Boromir and the men of Dale to scoot down so she could sit next to Aragorn, Elrond sighed "What are we going to do about them?" Tanglinna nodded. "Something must be done." Galadriel began "Rumil and Orophin are bringing the weapon that can kill them…" Boromir interrupted, and it was his voice that eventually commanded everyone's attention.**

**"Why should we kill them? Why not use them to help us? In a dream, I saw the Eastern sky grow dark, but two stars shot out of it flying into the West, where a pale light lingered. A voice cried:**

**_Seek the line that was broken;  
With poor Elrond it dwells.  
There sit, by bad feats proven,  
Those stronger than Morgul spells.  
There lies, amongst elves drunken,  
The doom quite near at hand,  
For Arda's Bane has woken:  
The bastards forth shall stand._**

**"I tell you, they are a gift, a gift to the foes of Mordor. Give Gondor these elves of insanity. Let us use them against Sauron!"**

**Aragorn shook his head. "You cannot wield them. They answer to their sex drives alone and have no other masters."**

**Gandalf concurred. "They are altogether evil. We cannot use them"**

**Boromir was not to be deterred. "Then we can _give_ them the Ring, let them wield it against him."**

**Elrond responded in what he hoped was a definitive tone. "No. No one save the Dark Lord can use it. Neither can we hide it from him indefinitely or send it to Valinor. It must be destroyed."**

**The silence was so thick that it would probably be easier to decapitate an orc with a nail file than break the stillness. Nonetheless, Haldir managed to do so, standing and inquiring "Sounds great, but how are we going to do it?"**

**After another extended bout of silence, Elrond spoke again. "It's fairly obvious isn't it? We send a small band of warriors on a precision strike to ****Mount****Doom****, eluding all manner of unpleasant pursuit in the process, where they will proceed to cast the Ring into the fire and may or may not come out alive. I'm sure that Frodo will agree to carry the Ring for such a mission."**

**"Will I get lunch sooner if I agree?"**

**"Yes."**

**"Then I will take it."**

**Gandalf committed himself to travel with Frodo as long as the Hobbit brought along enough pipeweed to keep him high for the entire journey.**

**Aegnor stood up. "Would it not be simpler to have Gwaihir come here and fly Frodo and Mithrandir to Mordor? It would be faster, less risky, and have an even greater element of surprise."**

**Elrond paused for a minute. Yes, that solution was both logical and potentially more effective than his current proposal, but there must be some flaw in it. It was too easy. In fact, that was its flaw. "No. An enthusiastic youngling like yourself might think such a plan brilliant, but it is too easy; Sauron will be expecting something like that. So are there any others who will join Frodo and Mithrandir on their quest?"**

**Silence again. "Legolas? There are some lovely forests you can visit on the way." The elf in question looked dubious, but Tanglinna said something persuasive to him, presumably reminding him of the opportunity to get away from his father for a few _months_. As Legolas walked over to stand with the Hobbit and the wizard, Elrond saw Elrohir distinctly mouth "The truce is off," to which the prince nodded.**

**Surveying the assembly for his next target, Elrond noticed that his mother-in-law was once again giving that dwarf looks that too closely resembled the looks Celebrian used to give him. "Master Gimli? Your, um, expertise in goblin-slaying might be appreciated." When the dwarf made no move to answer, Elrond decided to twist the knife in deeper. "I mean, if you aren't up to it, I'm sure your father would serve just as well." That quickly, Gimli had joined the other three.**

**Elrond looked at his foster son, but he only twitched his head in the direction of Arwen. He sighed. Much as it pained him to do this, "Aragorn, I'll let my daughter go with you if you'll take up the shards of Narsil against Sauron." As the two of them got up, Boromir stood up as well. "Since I have to go back to Gondor anyway, I might as well accompany you." Galadriel added "The same goes for me and my company."**

**Elrond looked at the group beside him and decided that it was good. "You shall be the…"**

**"Ohmigod it's FIGWIT!" Huchelda screamed, glomping poor Aegnor. As Elladan and Elrohir pried her off her victim, Vienasar simply said "We're coming too."**

**From the bushes, Sam emerged and, with a look of loathing directed toward the twins, announced his intention not to let Frodo travel anywhere without him. From the other side, Merry and Pippin came out, declaring that such chaos would need fitting comic relief.**

**Sighing at the eighteen or so assembled before him (he couldn't remember how many elves were with Galadriel), one of whom was still struggling to get her hands on Aegnor, Elrond made his proclamation. "Very well. You shall be the Expedition to the South."**


	10. Ch IX: The Autumn of their Discontent

To the Halls of Mandos in a Backpack  
Chapter IX: The Autumn of their Discontent

(PA/N: Maybe Aragorn isn't the only hottie in Rivendell.)

(OA/N: Theodosia thinks I'm the most oblivious man in this world and the most oblivious elf in that one. Is this true?)

_Love is in the Air_, Chapter 9- A New Beginning

**As soon as Elrond made his proclamation, the already chaotic scene degenerated further, making Erestor very glad that he had moved to an unobtrusive position behind his seat as the Expedition began assembling. As one, the four hobbits took off in the direction of the kitchens, knocking over all the larger folk in their paths. This had the effect of sending the balance of the Expedition plus all those elves that were attempting to get Huchelda off of Aegnor to the ground or at least to their knees. Haldir was the luckiest, in that Sam, who was otherwise following immediately behind the more aggressive Merry and muttering apologies to everyone Merry had pushed, had shoved Haldir sideways, forcing him out of the developing scrum. Taking a spot next to Erestor, Haldir offered to let Erestor win back his bottle of wine, betting that Huchelda would emerge before Aegnor did. Despite the mediocre odds, Erestor accepted and the two turned their attention to the mass of tangled bodies before them.**

**In the wake of the hobbits, the majority of those present managed to regain their feet and move on. Among them were Vienasar and Arwen; the former was giving the latter a lecherous stare while the latter was twirling her dagger menacingly in the direction of the former. Aragorn had to grab both her arms and drag her off to avoid any additional violence. Elladan and Elrohir were also among those who had surfaced, though both reentered the mass of people immediately, coming out a few moments later dragging Aegnor out from beneath those who had sought to defend him from Huchelda. Having saved the poor but largely anonymous elf from what was perhaps a fate worse than death, the twins turned and left the premises, speaking softly to each other. Erestor thought he heard the word 'brown,' but he couldn't be positive.**

**Next to him, Haldir grumbled about having lost the bottle of wine. Erestor, sensing the opportunity to improve Imladris-Lorien relations, proposed that, rather than consuming their own personal stores, they split a bottle of Elrond's reserves after dinner. Haldir readily agreed and, his bets with Erestor resolved, went to settle his account with Glorfindel. On those bets, at least, Haldir had made a killing.**

**Of those remaining on the ground, the elven ringbearers were the only noteworthy individuals. Galadriel had fallen on top of Gimli such that his face was embedded in her stomach. Curiously, however, there was none of the guttural grumbling that seemed to characterize dwarven complaints, and Galadriel, for her part, was showing little inclination to move either. Erestor wondered if something was afoot. When cursing, elves would occasionally accuse each other of enjoying certain acts typically attributed to dwarves, but he had never seriously thought about an elf getting pleasure from such things, nevermind a dwarf actually performing them…**

**Erestor was wondering if he should intervene when Elrond kicked them. Both came to their feet, glaring angrily at Elrond, until they realized, as Erestor had already noticed, that he was asleep and probably dreaming. And after having to suffer through that council on top of everything else he had recently endured, neither of them could blame him.**

At the other end of what had briefly been The Ill-Conceived Elven/Human/Dwarven Pile Up of Elrond, Huchelda remained on her back, in pain but also giddy at having touched Figwit. Even if he was perhaps the most artificial fad in fandom, based on his limited face time and nonsensical/pointless lines, she still had to admit that he was gorgeous. And speaking of gorgeous, Legolas walked by and, after making eye contact with her, tentatively offered his hand to her. She graciously accepted his assistance in coming to her feet and, as he walked off, couldn't help but believe that maybe this trek to Rivendell had not been in vain.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Frodo had to admit to being somewhat disappointed with his fellow hobbits. Despite having a reputation as the least gluttonous of the four, he had managed to eat a third of the food set out on the table in the same amount of time that the other three had consumed the other two thirds. Unfortunately, their rather swift consumption of what was intended as a fairly light lunch for the attendees of the council satisfied none of them. So the four of them stared at each other, each face asking two questions: _Why is all the food gone?_ and _Where can we get some more?_**

**Unfortunately for the hobbits, the taller members of the council were entering the room and asking the exact same questions. Frodo once again decided to show the initiative which had saved his stomach from sure implosion not fifteen minutes ago by telling the other three to follow him to the cellar storerooms, where they would presumably find additional goods on which to dine.**

**The good news was that, upon descending to the level above the cells, a storeroom of acceptable victuals was quickly found. The bad news was that it was the size of a standard closet: only one elf would be able to fit in, and three hobbits could only do so when motivated by food. Frodo would have liked to think that he yielded to the others because he'd gotten the most upstairs and was just being generous, but the truth of the matter was that the sheer determination of Merry and Pippin coupled with the additional bulk of Sam had denied him entrance. Sam at least had the generosity to throw a block of cheese to Frodo, which the newly designated Ringbearer nibbled at as he paced down the hall. In the next room, he spied Erestor and Haldir talking amidst an already depleted wine cellar. The former remarked "Since two bottles of Elrond's precious Dorwinion are already absent, another shouldn't be missed."**

**Haldir must have given his assent, for a few moments later the two elves came out, more quickly than Frodo could hide. However, neither did anything more than nod in acknowledgement as they passed him. Whether they did so out of deference to his selfless sacrifice in volunteering to take the Ring or simply because they failed to question the wisdom of allowing a hobbit near the foodstores, he could not guess. To prevent them from thinking about it, he invited the two of them to another poker game, which would be held in Pippin's room in half an hour or so. Both of them accepted, much to Frodo's chagrin, given that Haldir's bluff with an eight high had kept the hobbit from winning the previous match.**

**Some minutes later, after all four hobbits had decided to temporarily cease their consumption (as per the Hobbit Creed: "Always hungry, never full, will eat anything put before us as long as it seems edible"), they made their way toward Pippin's room for the game. Despite all the bad things that Vienasar had perpetrated, Frodo had to thank him for introducing the hobbits to Texas Hold 'Em; it had completely revived their interest in card games and, more to the point, had provided entertainment for their sojourn in Rivendell that could involve the elves as well. After waking from his long illness, inter-racial poker had been the perfect diversion to keep him from thinking about how close he had come to becoming a wraith. Unfortunately, Glorfindel was the only elf who the hobbits could consistently beat. Pippin was usually unable to hide his glee when he got a good hand, Merry had a tendency to overbid on mediocre hands, Sam was too conservative, and Frodo always seemed to get good hands only when Haldir, Erestor, or one of the twins did as well.**

**Speaking of the twins, the hobbits passed them and extended an invitation to the poker game, which, after a consultation that included discussion of the fact that tomorrow would certainly be a better day for some unspecified event, was accepted. Amidst the standard table talk, Pippin commented on Arwen's word choice and, one thing leading to another, convinced Elladan to organize a cursing contest to take place several days hence. In the game itself, Frodo finally got the better of the elves after gaining an insurmountable lead on a hand where, dealt two fours, the flop included the other two, allowing him to best the full houses of Elrohir and Haldir.**

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The other twins spent a quiet afternoon and evening in their rooms. Huchelda pondered if a relationship with Legolas might not just be plausible. After all, he had formed no canonical romantic or sexual attachments, unless one believed the rumors about him and Gimli, which she did not, simply because the idea of _anyone_ having relations with a dwarf was just revolting. Interestingly enough, that opinion was one of the few on such matters that she shared with her brother, who along with Figwit was the only elf even in the same league as Legolas beauty-wise. The question about Legolas was whether or not she could attract him simply with her physical beauty. Thanks to the anticipated gap between the council and the actual departure of the Expedition, however, she would have time to observe Legolas and be able to cater her appearance to his preferences.

Vienasar was still thinking about Arwen. Her recent rediscovery of Aragorn had done nothing to diminish her attractiveness, and he remained confident that, at some level buried deep within her, she still wanted him. Granted, her recent fascination with that knife complicated things, but still. While there's breath, there's hope.

Consequently, the next day, when Aragorn and Arwen slipped away for some smooching, at a minimum, Vienasar followed. Given that he knew their intention, it seems slightly odd that he followed them anyway, but he had a very vague plan to use his elven magic to switch places with Aragorn once the couple was settled. It was better than no plan, at any rate.

Meanwhile, Legolas was communing with nature by taking a walk along the river. Huchelda followed, both to enjoy the opportunity to observe the gorgeous elf at ease among the beauty of nature and because watching Legolas kept her mind off of the other, less attainable males in Rivendell.

**What Huchelda did not know, of course, was that she was being trailed. Despite the fact that he had thrown the stone that deprived Huchelda of her amorous goal, Glorfindel did not think that an accidental misfire counted as appropriate revenge for the dance two nights before and thus was seeking a suitable opportunity for such revenge. As had happened on the night of that incident, Tanglinna accompanied him, though he was more concerned that Huchelda might follow in her brother's footsteps and attempt more violent methods of obtaining her desire. Shortly after leaving the building, they were joined by Galadriel, who explained that she was trying to get away from the dwarf Gimli. While she admitted that she found the attention flattering, he was beginning to imply decidedly improper suggestions given that she was a married woman.**

**Unaware of the retinue following him or the fact that his path was leading him dangerously close to the spot where Arwen and Aragorn were locking lips, Legolas paused as Nutsy joined him. In addition to the trained squirrel and the hidden bipeds, the area was populated by one more foreign species: several birds with dark pointed bills, long necks with streaked feathers, brown wings, white undersides, and, most curiously and distinctly of all, bright blue feet. Without a doubt, Legolas, on account of his celebrated love and knowledge of nature, was the only one of the seven elves and one man in the vicinity who could identify them.**

**Quietly but excitedly, he began commenting on these unusual visitors to Imladris to the squirrel on his shoulder. "Oh wow, Nutsy. Look at these sea birds. They're magnificent! And look at the size of them!" One of the birds waddled up to Legolas and fearlessly allowed the elf to pick it up. Legolas began stroking it and, when it responded affectionately, cooing at it in the universal language of communication between man and domesticated beast, also known as baby talk. "Yes, yes, you're a pretty little thing, aren't you? Actually, a pretty large thing. Oh, you like that don't you, you pretty bird." Several other birds were approaching Legolas by this time, perhaps in hopes of receiving the same treatment, and it was to these as much as the one in his arms that the elf made a general proclamation, unaware that his voice could be clearly and easily heard by no less than seven other individuals in the immediate vicinity. "I love big boobies!"**

Huchelda was never one to question providence and so, as soon as Legolas had made that statement, she headed to her room to improve herself through a combination of magical enhancements and wardrobe adjustments.

**Tanglinna**** was absolutely shocked. How could Thranduil have raised his son to be a breast man? That's such a Noldor thing; wood elves are supposed to be leg men… well, leg elves, at any rate.**

**Galadriel was just appalled that an elf could hold such a narrow opinion of females (though she did not imagine that dwarves were above such thinking. Could that be why Gimli was so attracted to her?).**

Vienasar was amused that Legolas was a breast man; he was as well. Speaking of breasts, Arwen…

**Aragorn was surprised that an elf who always seemed to love nature more than women would have formed such an opinion; he wondered if Legolas was merely emulating opinions that he might have expressed regarding Arwen after consuming one mug too many. He wondered what Arwen thought about the other elf's statement, but when he turned to look realized that she was no longer there and was advancing menacingly toward Vienasar.**

**Glorfindel saw it too and moved swiftly to put himself between the murderous Arwen and her seemingly oblivious admirer. Unfortunately for him, Arwen was also armed with a shovel, which only the Valar know how she obtained. Glorfindel was knocked out cold, but his sacrifice would not be in vain, because it had given Arwen's true love enough time to catch up to her and dissuade her from further violence.**

**It was not until he heard the thunk of the shovel striking Glorfindel's head that he realized that his previous statement had had a non-avian audience. He then noticed Tanglinna and Galadriel glaring at him and realized the dual meaning of his words. "Boobies!" Legolas called after them. "Blue-footed boobies! Sea birds native to the tropical coasts south of Harad. I just read about them in _Avian Species of the Southern Lands_ by the Gondorian naturalist Egalthor." Unfortunately, both elves looked as though they had either not heard him or did not believe him and, as they walked away, he was left to wonder how many people had heard him and how many headaches this would cause, the least of which was his admission to Tanglinna that he, like the archer, had recently spent time in Elrond's library.**

**From the trees on the other side of the river, Elladan and Elrohir emerged, grinning ear to ear. Behind them stood an old man in brown robes, to whom the boobies flocked.**

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Huchelda spent all afternoon strutting her new and improved 'stuff,' receiving stares ranging from the envious to the incredulous from everyone who she passed but failing to find Legolas until the after dinner entertainment in the Hall of Fire where, surprisingly, he dared to show his face despite the fact that the hobbits were presenting their variety show. As she moved to stand next to him, trying to be alluring but not seductive, he saw that which he had asked for and his eyes got very wide.

Doing her best not to react to his scrutiny, she asked him how he was enjoying the performance. He replied that he was finding it highly amusing and somewhat furtively admitted that he was quite glad that he was not on the receiving end of their jokes.

**At the front of the hall, the hobbits were continuing with their second version of Vienasar's song.**

**_The Prince he did try  
Arwen's love to buy  
But 'gainst her love's face  
His own had no case.  
-----She's in love with an old man,  
-----An old man, an old man,  
-----In love with an old man  
-----Who looks like a young man.  
-----Ha-ha!_**

**_So into the brook  
Arwen's shove him took.  
It must have been cold,  
For now I am told  
-----That he's mad with the princess,  
-----The princess, the princess,  
-----He's mad with the princess.  
-----Trouble now is brewing,  
-----Uh oh!_**

**_So into a cell  
He threw the fair belle.  
The cell he then shut  
'Gainst all of us, but  
-----She was saved by a squirrel,  
-----A squirrel, a squirrel,  
-----Was saved by a squirrel.  
-----'Twas a daring rescue,  
-----Yee-ha!_**

**_Arwen wants his head.  
Her wrath he should dread,  
But instead he gapes  
At her through the drapes.  
---At this very moment…  
-----He's staring at the princess,  
-----The princess, the princess,  
-----Staring at the princess.  
-----She throws her knife at him,  
-----Look out!_******

**As Merry complimented Frodo on the ad-libbing skills he had so capably demonstrated in performing his verse, Vienasar dove to the ground a mere instant before Arwen's dagger cut a hole through the curtains.**

**Across the room, Elrond was grumbling his displeasure at the damage his daughter had done to his wall furnishings, which were perfectly good despite Galadriel's frequent criticism of his taste in room décor. Speaking of Galadriel, she was looking rather pale and horrified and her face had assumed that resignedly determined expression usually reserved for times of self-sacrifice, such as the time she and Celeborn had agreed to sleep on couches in separate rooms after Thranduil, Elrond, and Gil-Galad had threatened to walk out on their conference if she and her husband had continued to make so much noise at night.**

Meanwhile, ignorant of the excitement going on around them, Huchelda and Legolas remained engaged in light conversation. Huchelda was just beginning to make her move, confessing to Legolas that she thought he was dreamy, when the crowd between them and the hobbits parted, revealing Frodo, who was frantically pacing as though in search of something while Merry followed as though trying to calm him down. The former declaimed "Big boobs! Big boobs! My father's kingdom for big boobs!" Merry answered "Withdraw, Prince Legolas; I'll find thee an elf maid equally well-endowed, and of safer disposition." Nevertheless, Frodo as Legolas repeated his request as Merry dragged him off stage and out of harm's way. "Big boobs! Big boobs! My father's kingdom for big boobs!"

As those two disappeared, Sam stepped forward, putting his hands behind his back, and began to recite.

_Big as the moon,  
Or at least a sand dune,  
They make men's eyes turn  
(You'd think us guys would learn).  
Soft as a pillow,  
Thick as the trunk of a willow,  
They flap when she walks,  
And even when she talks.  
If on her face she did trip,  
She'd bounce back like a whip.  
Huchelda's breasts are they,  
Biggest of all, I should say.  
If ever you saw them,  
You wouldn't forget them.  
Legolas with them wants to lie,  
And it's not hard to discern why:  
The elf with them is obsessed;  
He loves big knockers best._

Through these outrages, Legolas, despite the number of eyes turned on him, managed to keep calm and quiet, only his eyes betraying the embarrassment that he surely felt at such public humiliation. Huchelda wanted to raise her voice to defend the poor elf, but before she could do so two things happened. First, Pippin sidled up and began dancing and singing in a style that only Vienasar could have taught him. Second, as Pippin sang "I like big boobs and I cannot lie," Legolas took one last glance at the hobbits before bolting from the room like a Nazgul from a phoenix.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Galadriel retired to her quarters immediately after the show. Rumil and Orophin would still be a few days with the weapon, her husband had not yet arrived with Eowyn, and the situation was becoming desperate. She didn't know to what degree she could salvage anything from this debacle, but she figured that she had no choice but to try. The most immediate crisis, quite obviously, was Arwen's continued attempts to kill Vienasar. No matter how vile he might be, murder was simply not an acceptable solution to Galadriel, even if he was throwing looks at her granddaughter that were far more blush-inducing than anything Celeborn had ever directed toward her. More to the point, Arwen's self-control was definitely lacking and Rivendell was lucky that to this point Glorfindel and some of Elrond's less-than-stunning drapes were the only casualties. Something had to be done. It was a complicated bit of mind-meddling that involved transferal of emotions and would require great sacrifice on her part, but it was the only solution she could think of.**

Vienasar wondered if the seating chart for dinner (which put him and Arwen on opposite sides of the room each facing the nearest wall) was deliberate. Or, come to that, if it was more than coincidence that her knife had nearly killed him. Whether or not it was, it did not deter him from following her as she headed toward her quarters after the hobbits were done. He was so intent on her that he failed to notice the substantial crowd that was following him, presumably anticipating more fireworks.

**From behind her door, Galadriel, using her mind-scanning ability, perceived Arwen coming down the hall with Vienasar trailing behind her. Galadriel took a deep, steadying breath. Was she really going to do this? Yes. Did she really have a choice? No.**

**Arwen passed her room. With a sigh of "Oi Valar," Galadriel opened the door, stepped into the hall, and stretched as languorously as she could without exposing that which remained hidden by her admittedly sexy nightdress. Unfortunately, her target was not the only one in the hall. Among others who looked either pleasantly or unpleasantly surprised, her son-in-law looked like he was trying to gouge his eyes out and Gimli was looking like Yule had come early. Fortunately, her display seemed to have had the desired effect. Vienasar's jaw had just dropped, and he was looking at her as though he didn't know what had hit him.**

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**The next morning, the second after the council, Boromir was among the first to arrive in the Rivendell courtyard to see the new arrivals, a male elf and a female human. The former was silver-haired and exuded the wisdom and power of an ancient elf lord substantially more than did Elrond. The woman was blond and fairly attractive, though she radiated toughness and determination, which didn't appeal to one with a preference for more compliant females, as well as intelligence, which tended to be his brother's mug of ale. Erestor was the first to actually greet them, shaking the elf's hand and stating "I know who you are," before turning to the woman, "but I have not yet had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. I'm Erestor." She took his hand and introduced herself as "Eowyn, niece of Theoden, King of Rohan." As Erestor backed away from them and looked around as though trying to decide where he could find rooms for the new arrivals, Legolas and Galadriel entered the courtyard from opposite sides, the former followed by Huchelda (who definitely was Huge-elda at this point) and the latter pursued by Vienasar and Gimli, who was doing his best to hide in the shadows.**

**Boromir turned to Tanglinna, who was now standing next to him, and asked if the silver-haired elf might be Ralas, the father of the twins, based on the fact that both had come to greet him more swiftly than Elrond. His inquiry, however, could be heard by everyone in the courtyard.**

Huchelda's jaw dropped. She had not at all expected her father to show up, but it was true that he had threatened to if she and Vienasar failed to obtain the objects of their desire. Of course, she had never had a clear mental picture of her father, but this elf certainly seemed old and wise enough to be her sire. Making her decision, she ran past Legolas and happily embraced her father with a cry of "Daddy! It's so good to see you!"

**Galadriel would not have been more stunned if Feanor had dashed into Imladris, stolen the Ring, and dashed back out to give it to Morgoth. Her husband was pretending to be the twins' father. Granted, whether spontaneous or not, she had to admit that it was a pretty good plan for neutralizing the menace, but still. Upon seeing him, she had wanted nothing more than to run up to him, hug and kiss him to near the point of death, and then take him to her bedroom for the day. Now, of course, there was no way she could attempt such a thing. Resigned to spending a few days trying to decide whether close proximity without contact was in fact worse than separation, she turned around to head back to her room.**

**The elf behind Galadriel turned to follow her but was stopped when Eowyn grabbed her arm. All that Celeborn had told her was that less than pleasant twins had come to Rivendell and that she was needed to help keep them from causing too much mayhem. The best way to do that, she imagined, was to pretend to be interested in elven fashion, grooming, and the like and thus befriend the female. So as soon as she had spotted the female twin, she went over and engaged her in conversation. "Hi, Huchelda. I'm Eowyn. I couldn't help but admire how sleek and straight you've managed to make your hair. And I love the way that you've chosen to defy masculine superiority by wearing gender-neutral garb instead of one of those awful frilly dresses. So do you engage in swordplay as well?"**

Vienasar turned around incredulously. Eowyn was mistaking him for his sister? It took him a couple seconds to recover from his shock, but once she stopped talking he began to correct her. "I'm…"

"Vienasar!" His sister called. "Come and say hi to daddy!" As Eowyn's expression showed signs of embarrassment, Vienasar added, "That's Huchelda," before stalking off to greet the father whom he had forgotten still existed.

**"Oh," Eowyn said as Vienasar walked off. She had messed that up royally. "The compliment about your hair still applies," she called after him, but he gave no sign of acknowledgement. "Damn," she muttered. The situation must be more difficult and complicated than she had imagined.**

Author's Notes: Obviously, the canon characters and setting are Tolkien's. Tanglinna is **TreeHugger**'s. The idea of Glorfindel being an unsuccessful gambler comes from **Dragon-of-the-north's** _A Tale of Valinor_. The Hobbit Creed is a variation on the attitude of my brother (**Nevalkarion**) toward food: "Never hungry, never full, will eat whatever is served." The shovel joke is not mine and belongs, or so I am told, to alliwantisanelfforchristmas.  
The addition of Middle-earthers playing poker (as per _Some that Die Deserve Life_) is just my commentary on America's ESPN-induced obsession with poker. It is also deliberately playing with the element of time (given that there is very little time within the story that Frodo was awake while the elves mentioned were unoccupied) because that seems to be another thing that falls by the wayside in Mary Sues.  
The blue-footed booby (_Sula__ nebouxii_) is, on account of its feet, probably the most distinctive of the booby family of sea birds. It is native to the Pacific coast of the Americas from California to Peru.  
Huchelda's mixed fantasy metaphor is an attempt to mock those fangirls who introduce species from other fantasy worlds, in this case by combining two of the three things which give the Nazgul problems- fire and eagles.

Review Responses:  
**Lady LeBeau**- Kudos for correctly noting the presence of the uncanonical squirrel. The Gimli/Galadriel thing started in my head as a throwaway joke but quickly became a major subplot (and one that isn't resolved yet). Glad that my observations rang true with you. And fear not, this isn't going to be _that_ long or complicated. As this chapter makes abundantly clear, I've milked about as much humor as I can out of the twins and said humor is once again regressing on the sophistication meter. Based on my list of things to happen before the arrival of the weapon, there are probably only one or two chapters to go.  
**TreeHugger**- Fear not; the wicked dwarf will get what's coming to him soon enough. Celeborn's in town, and we can't expect him to be happy about all this. I don't know if Arwen will be invited to the contest or not; she may just be a one-word wonder. Luthien actually was the inspiration for that particularly suggestion (but since Liv Tyler as Arwen doesn't seem like much of a singer, she had to come up with some other way).


	11. Ch X: The Resolution of the Subplots

To the Halls of Mandos in a Backpack  
Chapter X: The Resolution of the Subplots

Theodosia King absentmindedly petted her cat while she spoke heatedly to Crowbait. "I mean, this is just getting ridiculous! Peruvian seabirds in Rivendell? Hobbits playing poker? Frodo reciting Chaucer?" "Actually, I believe it was Shakespeare," Crowbait interrupted, but Theodosia didn't notice. "Our entirely make-believe father showing up? This is absurd! The Canonical Resistance Movement is making this whole thing far more uncanonical than it needs to be."

"Ah!" Crowbait noted. "So you admit that what we're doing is uncanonical?" "Well, yes," she said sheepishly. "It isn't as though I ever said it wasn't." Crowbait snorted. His enthusiasm for the project had been waning for some time, as he began to grasp the fact that successfully posting a story featuring a fictional projection of himself sleeping with a self-generated characterization of Arwen was not going to satisfy his need for love and desire for sex any more than writing such a story did. Theodosia seemed to be flagging as well; she was spending more of their writing sessions stroking her cat and talking to him than actually typing.

He began pondering aloud. "I wonder… perhaps we should keep our love-seeking activities to this world. Success here would certainly be more satisfying than apparent failure in that one."

"I think you may be right… but we can't just leave the twins without closure. They are part of us, or at least were before the actions of the CRM corrupted them. So where were we?"

"Let's see… I had come to the realization that Galadriel was the most beautiful elf in Rivendell, you excepted, of course, you were following Legolas, and Ralas had, for whatever reason, decided to come…"

_Love is in the Air_, Chapter 10- The Difficulties of Extracanonical Relationships

**Celeborn, for probably the thousandth time that day, wondered why he had decided to come. There was no point in coming to Rivendell if he couldn't be with his wife, was excluded by means of his false identity from the interracial poker games, and found his son-in-law too sick and tired to tease or argue with. No, he was instead spending the first day of his latest less-than-thrilling trip to Rivendell cornered by this two 'children,' who insisted on telling him their sob stories. When he wasn't wondering what he was doing in Imladris or wishing he could be with Galadriel, he was fighting his inclination to bang the heads of these two selfish brats together, thereby ending their whining and punishing them for so callously disrespecting the autonomy of his granddaughter and soon-to-be grandson-in-law. More than anything else, he just wished that someone would come in and inform them that it was time for dinner, thereby rescuing him from this absurdly boring and painful experience.**

** Unfortunately, such relief would not be immediately forthcoming. Tanglinna had taken particular care to make sure that everyone in Imladris knew that Celeborn was, in fact, Ralas, and was to be treated as such. Whether he did so out of recognition that allowing the twins to believe that Celeborn was their father gave the Canonical Resistance Movement another potential advantage or to avenge some previous slight was unknown.**

** With the twins in seclusion, it proved to be a fairly quiet day. Elrond was spending the whole day napping, in hopes of recovering all his wits, while Bilbo was doing the same despite his best intentions to compose some poetry. Elrond's twins had not emerged from bed all day either, curiously enough. Galadriel was in her room, pining after Celeborn and seriously contemplating a 'test of Haldir's loyalty' to satiate her unfulfilled lust, while trying to avoid the dwarf who was so clearly infatuated with her. Poor Éowyn had spent much of the morning cornered by Boromir, who told her so much about his brother that she thought he might be trying to set them up and from whom she could not escape because no one in Rivendell other than Celeborn really knew her. Thankfully, Merry the Hobbit found her and invited her and Boromir to join the Hobbits, Erestor, and Haldir in a game; they had wanted to move on to playing Hearts, but with Glorfindel otherwise occupied (he was frequently seen walking from one room to the next while laughing maniacally) and the twins sleeping, they needed two more people to set up a second table.**

** The reason for the unavailability of those three elves lay with Legolas, who after fleeing the previous night had determined to trick the twins into an equally embarrassing situation. It was Nutsy who found the means of pranking them and Glorfindel, who found in the Mirkwood elf a willing ally for his revenge on them, who suggested the content of the prank. Sometime after Galadriel had gone to bed, Legolas had found Vienasar and persuaded him to contribute a certain article as vengeance for the 'orc in bed' prank to which he had been subjected. Glorfindel, at the same time, had approached Arwen and collected her donations in exchange for his promise not to tell her father of the plans she and Aragorn had made for the next day.**

** On account of the large number of non-natives in Rivendell, Elladan and Elrohir were sleeping in the same room for the first time since they were elflings, thus allowing Legolas to get both of them in one fell swoop. During the very early hours of the morning, he entered their room and replaced the clothes each had set out for the next day with those articles he had obtained previously. He then lit two braziers. The first would burn a sleep-inducing herb that would keep the twins asleep until the evening, when the largest possible crowd would be assembled to dine. The second would burn the leaves of a mind-altering plant that would seriously cloud their perception and judgment. Nutsy had stolen both from Radagast's rather significant stores; the former was, in smaller doses, perfect for putting injured animals to sleep while he treated their wounds, and the latter was a southern substance that was, also in small doses, his preferred alternative to mere pipeweed. Legolas, however, was not skimping on the quantity of either. The hope was that, by the time the twins awoke, they would be sufficiently pliable that they could be unknowingly steered toward extreme humiliation just as the actions of the birds had led Legolas to make his now infamous statement.**

** Meanwhile, just as Celeborn was about to feign illness to get away from the other twins, Erestor came by and announced that supper was to be served soon. He then proceeded to issue the same summons to the Hearts players and all the other guests of Rivendell, before going and waking the sleepers. Bilbo was at least pleased at the thought of another meal until he realized that said meal was to be supper and not second breakfast. Elrond, on the other hand, grumbled rather vocally and made no secret of his intention to go back to sleep as soon as he was finished eating. Erestor did not comment that, at this point, it was obvious that Elrond was staying in bed because it was better than being awake in a house as chaotic as this one and not because he physically needed it. Of course, Erestor also suspected that the fact that Elrond, his children, Glorfindel, Legolas, indeed all of the celebrated canonical elves save himself needed sleep as humans did was attributable to the twins that had infiltrated Rivendell.**

** Speaking of twins, when Erestor went to awake the pair that belonged in Rivendell, he found Legolas standing outside their door. "What are you doing?" "Oh, nothing really." "Supper will be served shortly and I need to wake them." "Don't worry, Erestor, I will do so." Erestor paused. He had lived with Elladan and Elrohir for far too long to be fooled by Legolas' innocent act, which was as transparent as the (nonexistent) windows of Rivendell. Something was afoot. On the other hand, he had lived with Elladan and Elrohir long enough to know that trying to interfere with a prank in progress was like trying to rescue livestock from the mouth of a dragon: there was no way you could save the victim and attempting to do so would only lead to you being consumed as well. So Erestor nodded and left Legolas to his wicked devices. Legolas, for his part, expected that they would wake up fairly soon.**

** Elrohir opened his eyes in the hazy interior of a bedroom. It was not his own. He might have found the whole thing more curious were he not aware of a few sunbeams coming in the window. One was purple, a second yellow, a third teal, and on and on, a veritable rainbow of groovy colors. It was a sign of how out of things Elrohir was that he never questioned the etymology of his choice of adjectives. He was, however, quite unsure of what his next course of action was supposed to be, so he just sat, blinking and enjoying the pretty colors, until the thought of a shower began to appeal to him. With his mind wandering among the infinitely variable and ever intoxicating hues before him, he failed to register the implications of going to the shower clad in what appeared to be an undershirt and a pair of novelty briefs.**

** Thus attired, he turned around to find that he was not alone. He could not make out her face clearly, but she looked pretty enough, standing there in her bathrobe. He did not remember going to bed with a female but, what the Hall, there were enough of them to go around. At his gesture, the two of them opened the door and went to the corridor. Elrohir failed to notice the elf snickering at them as he dashed off and vaguely wondered if, perhaps, his brother had also seen some action last night…**

** Elladan was vaguely aware that he was walking toward the shower, but everything was kind of hazy. It was as though he was looking at everything through rose-colored glasses… which were now mauve… now chartreuse. His head was pounding and his eyes swimming as though he had spent too much time in a closed room with smoking hobbits. But for all that, he really couldn't complain. After all, the woman, even if he was unable to see her clearly, looked pretty hot. Hot enough, in fact, that he felt no need to question her judgment in going abroad wearing naught but her unmentionables. They were quite close to the facilities, but an elf who appeared to be Glorfindel intercepted them. He had a curious grin which Elladan interpreted as a combination of admiration of his girl and jealousy of him for getting to her first. It made him wish he could remember what, if anything, they had done the previous night.**

** "I'm afraid the showers are broken. You two will have to use the makeshift ones we've rigged up. Follow me." Glorfindel snickered as both meekly followed him without recalling that the showers of Rivendell, consisting as they did of hot water slowly released through strategically-placed holes in the holding tanks, were highly unlikely to break or be otherwise rendered unusable.**

** Elrohir, becoming more and more emboldened as Glorfindel led them farther and farther from the bedroom, decided to put his arm around the woman.**

** Elladan was surprised at how forward the woman was, draping her arm around his waist like that, but he did not object and instead reciprocated. They were entangled thus, blissful in their happily distracted world, when, um, what's his name, the jerk who had the hots for Arwen, passed them and said "Nice one, El!" As he nodded in appreciative response, he saw that the girl had done so as well. He was bemused for a moment before it occurred to him that the girl was probably just acknowledging that she was described as 'nice.'**

** As Vienasar passed the couple, he shook his head and muttered what sounded like "stoned." Elrohir took a minute to realize that it was probably "stones" and thus a compliment referring to that which was noticeable through and barely contained by his underwear. By the time he had figured it out, however, Glorfindel had opened a door, ushered them into an alcove, told them the water would be brought shortly, and closed the door again. Examining their surroundings, they saw that the alcove was closed off by a curtain at the other side. Between them and the curtain, which was a swirling rainbow of color, sat a rich cake decorated with extremely fancy icing. Elrohir looked at the girl, a wicked grin spreading on his face, and he was pleasantly surprised to see an identical grin on her face…**

From her seat between her father and Legolas, Huchelda kept one eye on her food, one eye on the course-staging area, and wished she had a third eye to watch Legolas. Incidentally, it was her brother and not Legolas who had warned her that something big was coming with dessert. He refused to give her any hints but just warned her to watch the unobtrusive curtain, which was only used when something needed to be added to a dish at the last possible moment, in this case whipped cream to the fancy cake that was to be served momentarily. As Glorfindel came in and took his seat, Huchelda again wondered what the big deal about Galadriel was. She was unabashedly staring at Ralas, who seemed to be pointedly avoiding her gaze, as though afraid of being caught looking at a married woman. Gimli the dwarf was, in turn, pointedly trying to catch her eye, and Vienasar had been doing the same since he came to his seat a few minutes before. There must be something about that woman to attract all those men, but she couldn't figure out what it was…

Huchelda was not given any further opportunity to contemplate Galadriel because dessert was announced and the curtain pulled away. There was a moment of stunned silence, during which one could have heard a flea sneeze, before the entire hall burst into laughter. She grinned wickedly, wondering who could have convinced the twins to publicly admit the affinities that she had tried to induce them to disclose during the dance on the eve of the council.

**If Boromir thought he had been frightened and sickened during the dance, this was nothing compared to what he saw now. Elladan and Elrohir were standing far too close together spreading icing and whipped cream over each other. One of them was wearing a lacey white camisole and a pair of purple panties. The other was in a bathrobe of a color normally only worn by men who were, one way or the other, _extremely_ secure in their sexuality. He quickly turned to Gandalf for reassurance. "Please tell me that wearing women's underwear or a pink robe is another symptom of GPS." Through his sniggering, the wizard managed to respond. "I'd call it salmon, and I think it's a symptom of particularly vicious pranking and the misuse of herbal, um, remedies." Gandalf, perceptive being that he was, had noticed that the robe had a picture of Arwen on the back and that the panties bore Tengwar script across the bottom that, let's just say, did not bear repeating, thereby implicating the two sources of the offending articles of clothing.**

** It was only after Elrond had yelled "Elladan! Elrohir! What are you doing?" that each twin recognized the identity of the other and quickly pulled apart, with looks of horror that no one present would soon forget. As they fled the scene, stumbling through the drug-induced haze, Legolas and Glorfindel declared victory, knowing that, by the time the author thought of a prank that could top this one, the story would be long over.**

** Unbeknownst to everyone busy watching the twins, Galadriel and Celeborn had taken the opportunity provided by the distraction to meet each other's eyes and exchange a message as only married couples can.**

The entertainment having left, Huchelda turned back to Legolas. An intriguing thought entered her head and she decided to relate it to her current romantic interest. "You know, you and Figwit playing like that would be really hot." His reaction was quite disappointing, given that he jumped from the table and told her never to speak to or even look at him again.

Having thus receded into a depressed state, she found it necessary to seek out her father for comfort. Her brother also wanted to speak with their father, in this case to gloat about his (minor) role in the prank, namely doing some good with his now useless Salmon Bathrobe of Arwen Worship. Between the two of them, they dragged their father back to a room so they could again talk freely. The night was still young and there was much Ralas had yet to hear.

**Celeborn could not believe his lousy luck. He and Galadriel had wanted each other so badly that they had decided to spend the night together and damn the consequences. Before he could get to her room, though, the stupid twins had cornered him and were again talking his ears off. This time, he decided it was worth the risk of employing his last and most effective defense mechanism: he slipped into Non-Entity Mode, his mind blissfully recalling nights with Galadriel while his body remained trapped in these dull conversations.**

"… I mean, seriously, can't an elf take a joke?" Huchelda asked rhetorically. To her surprise, her father answered "A joke it may be here, but dead serious it were in other fics." Huchelda paused. Her father's syntax had fallen into a curious pattern that sounded somehow familiar. It wasn't Yoda… "Celeborn! You aren't our daddy! You're Celeborn!" Vienasar seemed puzzled. "Who?" Huchelda supplied "Galadriel's husband; has one line in FotR."

**Galadriel opened the door and took one step into the room, completely oblivious to whatever debate the twins were involved in. She had been deprived for far too long, and she _would_ satisfy her need. She would just grab her husband, shove him into the closet next door, and… well, you can imagine.**

Huchelda, oblivious to Galadriel's presence, repeated her accusation to Celeborn, unaware that his attention was now almost entirely on his wife. "You aren't our father."

**Celeborn, focused as he was on Galadriel, opened his mouth and quickly tasted his toenails. "Who's to say I couldn't be? If your mom was as pretty as you…"**

** Though his eyes were focused on her as he spoke, Galadriel nonetheless gasped and fixed him with the Elf Lady Death Stare. How could he talk about another woman when she wanted him so, especially when said woman had given life to that… abomination, even if she is a pretty abomination? Without another thought, she stalked out of the room, leaving behind a confused and quite disappointed husband.**

** Appalled and unsatisfied, she headed back toward her room and began entertaining thoughts of Gimli who, based on his earlier intimations, would certainly be willing to help her out of this uncomfortable predicament. There was, however, the little problem of her being married, but then again, he wasn't an elf. How did she know that he even had the body parts necessary to commit adultery? She couldn't remember ever having seen a dwarf woman. Perhaps dwarves just spring out of holes in the ground. Aule is a strange guy, after all. She decided to summon him and, um, find out.**

** Celeborn sat in stunned silence as the twins left, no longer having interest in him if he wasn't their father. What had he said? He hadn't really been paying attention to anything but the appearance of his wife; he wanted her so badly and it was obvious that she equally wanted him. And yet he had said something to make her mad enough with him to forego satisfying their mutual passion. Which meant she was still desirous… Celeborn, who had been contemplating a return to Non-Entity Mode until she forgave him, suddenly sprang into action. He knew that Vienasar had expressed an interest in, um, comforting Galadriel during the absence of her husband, and he would sooner join Sauron than see his wife in bed with that… abomination. So he hastened to her room, unaware that Vienasar had already established a stakeout opposite her door, himself unaware that she had already returned to her room and was no longer alone.**

** As soon as he had come to the room, Galadriel told the dwarf to stand on chair. Once he had done so, she began kissing him. After getting over his initial shock, the dwarf began to reciprocate, the movement of his lips matching that of hers and one hand slipping behind her head as the other hugged her closer. When the door suddenly burst open, they quickly broke apart, Galadriel wincing as, in the process of withdrawing his hand, Gimli plucked three hairs from her golden head.**

** Celeborn, not expecting to find his wife with a dwarf, nevertheless managed to recover his power of speech first, ordering his wife to "Chuck him out of here." The dwarf bristled. "Nobody tosses a dwarf." Celeborn ignored that remark, instead grabbing the dwarf, unaware that he was pulling on perhaps the most treasured part of a dwarf's anatomy. "Not the beard!" Gimli yelled before Celeborn literally threw him out and slammed the door behind him. "I knew there was a reason I hated dwarves," Celeborn muttered before turning back to his wife. "Now let's do this. I'm the Lord Celeborn, and I'm back, baby!"**

Outside, Vienasar had narrowly avoided being hit by the flying dwarf. Between his repulsion at seeing his beloved make out with a dwarf and his recognition that her love for her husband was too strong for him to overcome, he decided to give up on Galadriel, wondering what spell could have made him fall for her in the first place. With a shrug, he moved on, wondering if Éowyn was available.

**A few minutes later, Galadriel lay in bed, feeling much happier and wondering what the Hall she had ever seen in that dwarf.**

** Meanwhile, in some distant corner of Rivendell, that dwarf sat, blissfully admiring the lock of her hair he had lately obtained.**

-

So there you have it: the real story behind the prank wars at the council and the relationship between Galadriel and Gimli and… What's that you say? This is supposed to be a story about Sues vs. the Canon? Oh, very well. I suppose that will be resolved in the forthcoming epilogue.  
The usual disclaimers apply; I own only the ill-conceived OCs and am making no money from my defamation of Tolkien's characters. I have also borrowed lines from the movie (in the Gimli/Galadriel scene) and those are not mine either. I hate slash but, given that Glorfindel and Legolas were seeking to avenge a disgustingly slashy prank and a publicly/sexually embarrassing one, a publicly embarrassing slashy prank seemed appropriate. Nor do I think that Galadriel would ever seriously consider having relations with an infatuated dwarf.  
**Noldo**: Thank you. I'm glad you're enjoying it. Yes, the lovebirds could use a rest, but I don't know that they would willingly take one.  
**Dragon-of-the-north**: There you go again, writing reviews that are funnier than the actual material :-) I love your interpretation of the sexual politics in Chapter IX; I need people like you to explain the deeper meaning of what I say. And, yes, the image of Éowyn as the French "La Mort" actually does, in a curious way, foreshadow the end of the twins.  
**Figure**: Yes, the bunny on a wire is from _Monte Python_ (as stated in the notes to Chapter VI). It's good to have heard from you, and I encourage you to review more often; sometimes the reviews are the only thing keeping me from abandoning a project entirely.  
**makoto-47**: Glad that you're liking it. Booby is indeed the proper spelling in referring to one of the birds, though I believe that Boobie is considered acceptable in reference to, well, one of that which everyone else in the vicinity thought Legolas was referring to.  
**Lady LeBeau**: Radagast certainly is underappreciated. He will also make an appearance in the epilogue. And Éowyn's mistake was inspired by a heretofore unpublished couplet in one of my brother's LotR limericks, a conversation between Éowyn and Gimli as the elves are marching into Helm's Deep: "Are elf women there?" / "Can't tell; it's the hair."  
**Theaphelia**: Glad you thought it was good. For my reasons in not using the term 'Marty Stu,' see my note to Laureline in Chapter V.


	12. Epilogue: When Worlds Collide

To the Halls of Mandos in a Backpack  
Epilogue: When Worlds Collide

**After facing as much public embarrassment as they had, most elves would probably hide for as long as possible in hopes that the whole thing would blow over. Given the overcrowded state of Rivendell and the presence of two individuals who had already shown a penchant for humiliating themselves, such a course of action might have been even more prudent. Elladan and Elrohir, however, were not 'most elves' and were never shy about anything. They had been openly shamed before, albeit never as badly as Legolas and Glorfindel had gotten them, but they had also learned to laugh at themselves and were fully aware that everyone would eventually realize that they had been involuntarily drugged and were thus not responsible for their actions.**

**Their plan for diverting everyone's attention away from themselves was to fulfill their promise to Pippin and organize a cursing contest. As announced at breakfast, it was to be limited to Quenya and Sindarin expletives and would consist of a series of head-to-head matches among a group of contestants that already included Elrond (who wanted the opportunity to vent), Galadriel (who couldn't resist the chance to compete with her son-in-law), and Tanglinna (who wanted to upstage the Noldor in this most important of fields). The matches were to be judged on virulence, creativity, and applicability to the target by Gandalf (who was ineligible to compete because he had at his disposal the favorite curses of the Valar), Arwen (who refused to enter because she knew she could not top her performance from the Council), and Elrohir. Elladan, true to the plan he had while guarding Elrond's healing of Frodo, would serve as official recorder of the event, though there was no doubt that at least one of the Hobbits would be taking notes as well.**

**After the announcement, others decided to get involved: Erestor, Celeborn (who was probably as good at cussing as his wife but tended to be far more subtle), Haldir (who, having access to probably the two largest vocabularies in Middle-earth in his master and mistress, was under the illusion that he could compete with either), and Aragorn (who knew he would get slaughtered but felt that it was important that man be represented). Gimli and Boromir had also wanted to participate, the former being rather skilled with Khuzdul expletives and the latter seriously overestimating his competence with Adunaic curses (a consequence of rarely using them when he wasn't drinking). They were, understandably, disallowed because the other contestants would not be able to understand them, but they decided to stage a protest cursing contest between them, which Bilbo and Glorfindel, despite being totally ignorant of the languages involved, agreed to judge, the former because they told him it was the real contest he would be judging, the latter because he was afraid that Elrohir and Elladan would try to get back at him if he appeared at their contest (even though Legolas, a more obvious target, had no such fears).**

**Both contests would begin before lunch the next day, and both would be held outside to take advantage of the pleasant weather. Surprisingly, Vienasar and Huchelda did nothing to disrupt or otherwise enliven the planning, instead spending the entire day talking behind closed doors. Éowyn had taken upon herself the task of trying to make sure that they were not planning something and had recruited Nutsy to eavesdrop and Radagast to translate. Unfortunately, the twins had done something or other that made them all but impossible to hear, but among the snatches of conversation the squirrel caught Vienasar saying "I wish you weren't my sister." That was enough for the woman and the wizard to formulate a plan by which they would save all of the canonical characters from the further unwanted amorous advances of those two.**

**-**

**Galadriel was in the middle of warming up her voice and mentally reviewing her plan of attack for the first match, which pitted her against Erestor, when something different pricked the edge of her consciousness. It took her a minute to realize that what she felt was the presence of Rumil and Orophin in Imladris. She was torn. Based on the way the twins were looking at each other, they were up to something, so it was critical to deploy the weapon as soon as possible to prevent further problems. To do so, however, she would have to leave the cursing contest, and Galadriel would never back down from a challenge. Fortunately, Haldir's brothers were heading directly for the protest contest and thus Glorfindel, who was perhaps the only elf in Rivendell besides her husband she could trust to wield the weapon. After she mentally relayed her instructions to him, he reluctantly agreed to do so because he could thereby take revenge against Huchelda for the atrocities she had committed at the dance. As she passively tracked him to the prison cells, it occurred to her that, if the Valar had indeed sent Glorfindel back to Middle-earth, it must have been for this mission.**

Outside, Huchelda and Vienasar had decided on a plan of action. It wasn't pretty, and it seemed quite a waste given all the effort they had put into this, but they had reached an understanding that, in combination with their failure to obtain their desires in Middle-earth, provided them with only one option. Granted, Huchelda had wanted drowning, which Vienasar opposed because they had already come close to doing so, while he had favored poison, which she felt was too subtle. In the end, they had compromised on knives and decided to put it off until after the cursing contest. After all, there was no reason for them to deny themselves what promised to be an epic of entertainment.

Elladan was just finishing the recitation of the rules, after which Galadriel and Erestor would begin the first match, when an old man in brown robes came in and began speaking to the crowd assembled, although he seemed to be talking to them specifically. "Landroval has just brought me word…"

"Landroval?" Vienasar interrupted.

"Brother of Gwaihir the Windlord. Anyway, Landroval has just returned from his flight to Nantaurea, where he spoke to King Ralas Firnquareion and learned the true nature of your relationship. Vienasar is Huchelda's grandfather's half-brother's daughter's husband's ex-roommate's son."

Huchelda paused, trying to work that out. "Which makes us…?"

"Absolutely nothing! Less related than Aragorn and Arwen! And you know what they are doing…"

Huchelda and Vienasar stared at the brown-robed man and then, as one, turned slowly toward each other. On the one hand, how were they to know if this was any more true than Celeborn pretending to be Ralas? On the other hand, they would take even the slimmest excuse, knowing that now they could both have what they truly wanted and continue to enjoy their stay in Middle-earth, perhaps even going on the Quest and making everything easier for the canon.

There was no need for discussion. As one, their limbs wrapped around each other and their lips came together.

**The reactions of the others were mixed. Some were stunned. Some applauded, figuring that such foul creatures were perfect for each other. Mithrandir grinned, having finally seen the seeds he planted shortly after he arrived in Imladris bear fruit. Celeborn was totally oblivious, because he was still working out the implications of Radagast's riddle. If Ralas was Huchelda's father, then he probably had nothing to worry about, but if Tanglinna had been correct about Maedhros being her father, then Vienasar's father was an ex-roommate of, if his memory of Noldorin family trees was correct, either himself or Eöl, and he did not think that Eöl had been the type to have roommates outside of Aredhel. Granted, Celeborn had never really had a roommate, unless one counted the times that Thingol stayed in his room after quarrelling with Melian, but he doubted Thingol would have had children with another elf. Oh, and there was that one time Galadriel had secretly sent him to treat with Maedhros and he had shared the Feanorian's tent so his own presence would not become known…**

**-**

**In a familiar prison cell, Éowyn was stuffing the Uruk skin that Glorfindel, following Galadriel's orders, was donning. To overcome his disgust at having to again wear the suit in which he had pranked Vienasar, he had downed the entire bottle of Dorwinion, which had not left the cell since Tanglinna had brought it there, not even sharing a sip with the woman who had volunteered to help him with his costume, as Elrohir had done before. He was unaware that, had he not imbibed the canonical wine, the weapon would not have enough power to fulfill its task.**

**From a distance, it was a fairly normal looking short bow. Its composition made it special. The bow itself was the bough of a mallorn strung with a magically fortified hair of Faramir (the longer-haired of the two characters who, in the true canon, most completely resisted the temptation of the Ring). The two arrows, one for each target, were made from the thin dead branches of the White Tree of Gondor. Their arrowheads were mithril and treated with athelas. It would be fired by an elf who played an important, if forgotten, role in the Third Age canon and debatably the First as well. Said elf had consumed a bottle of Dorwinion and was wearing the skin of an Uruk, which, being a generic inhabitant of canon that occasionally wounded Mary Sues so they could be rescued by their lust objects, would allow the elf to circumvent the magic that otherwise prevented canon from inflicting serious injury on the twins. It was, in short, the ultimate weapon the Canonical Resistance Movement could construct against this incursion.**

-

In an apartment in a parallel universe, Theodosia King was sitting on the couch with the cat in her lap, watching TV to determine the plausibility of going for a picnic the next day. She should have been writing, but a) what was the point? and b) she had the cat in her lap. How could she disturb the pretty kitty? Crowbait was right next to her, ostensibly to pet the cat, but both of them were fully aware that he was really doing it just to be closer to her. Their eyes (and hands) kept meeting, and even the cat seemed aware that he would not have the warm, comfortable lap to himself for much longer.

Movement on the screen caught Vienasar's attention. The map, showing the predicted movement of fronts over the next 48 hours, was normal, but the weatherman was wearing full body armor, complete with multiple sharp edges, nasty-looking gauntlets with which to gesture at the map, and a spiky helmet. He wondered how long the Weather Channel had been hiring defeated Dark Lords, but Theodosia drew his attention back to her and turned off the TV.

-

**While the twins who were, apparently, not in fact twins continued to make out, oblivious to their surroundings, Glorfindel appeared in the midst of the assembly, all of whom reached for weapons with which to eliminate the orc before Elrohir, recognizing the Uruk skin, yelled at them to stop. Glorfindel then addressed them, still completely unnoticed by the happy lovers. "This is the weapon, assembled by Galadriel, with which I can kill these twins. Shall I?"**

**Tanglinna shrugged. "Well, at this point, things are so out of order that we will have to break the world to restore canon anyway; nothing good can come from this. But we might as well get them out."**

Inexplicably, Awrin the Mini-Balrog was there. "He's right. We will have to break the world. But we must get them out first. To keep Sauron from using his power to interfere with the recreation of the proper canonical world for his own benefit, I asked him to ensure that those two never write fanfiction again. Granted, it's taking him some time to differentiate among the electronic devices, but, nevertheless, you may fire when ready. Any Mini-Balrogs of reviewers are hereby cordially invited to a barbeque of the fangirl and fanboy."

**Glorfindel drew back and fired the first arrow. It struck a mortal blow, and Vienasar was dead before he hit the ground. Huchelda had time to turn to Glorfindel with her mouth open in shock before he fired the second arrow, sending her to the same fate.**

-

Back in the apartment, the computer exploded, causing Theodosia's cat to run at top speed and hide under the bed. On the couch, however, Theodosia King and Crowbait barely noticed. They were together at last, having finally found the romance that they sought and, perhaps more importantly, enjoying the "passionate, steamy-hot sex" that they craved.

-

**In Rivendell, even as the world was being broken and remade around them, all the characters breathed a sigh of relief.**

**The reign of horror endeth.**

**-**

(A/N: Well, there you have it, my first and probably last attempt at a Mary Sue parody and an extended humor piece. I hope you all enjoyed it. The canon characters belong to Tolkien, Tanglinna to TreeHugger, the OCs to me, and I am making no money off of any of this. Mini-Balrogs are an invention of Miss Cam explained in _OFUM_ and Awrin is my Mini-Balrog. _Spaceballs_ (the Mel Brooks movie) was the inspiration for Radagast's report of the twins' 'true' relationship. Lady LeBeau suggested Sauron as forecaster in a review of _Wings_. The title of the chapter comes from an episode of _Seinfeld_. As for who won the cursing contest, that question must remain unanswered. Happy Holidays!)


End file.
